If In the End
by Eirian1
Summary: A curious Email sent to the team to tell them not to investigate a particular case, things go very wrong... Will the team survive?
1. Prologue and Act 1

UC: Undercover

Story and original characters © E. Phillips 2001, all other characters and UC: Undercover Premise remain © Shane Salerno and NBC and associated companies. No Copyright infringement intended. 

If… In the End 

  
  


Three years and seven months, all flooding back in the moment she said his name. The laughter, the joy in feeling right for once in his life… even the tears they shared – and then nothing. 

And the continuing nothing over six months of frantic searching, of swirling worry, of fear that had left him sleepless and sick – aching… all brought back in a simple, "Frank… I need to talk to you." 

So much so that he missed the tone… missed the body language that that would have warned of trouble before he heard the sound that halted his long strides toward the door of the bar. 

It wasn't the way she almost at once called after his retreating back, almost begging him… imploring… 

"Frank please… just two minutes… I need you to hear what I have to say." 

Or the way she raised her voice in desperation, "Don't walk away from this… don't walk away from me…" 

But the soft click of a weapon being cocked. 

He stopped walking, ignoring the screams and panic erupting around him, and turned to look at her again, this time taking everything in, including Jake and Alex who had appeared, seemingly from nowhere and were pointing their own weapons in her direction. 

She was pale and in the bar's flickering dim lights the dark circles under her eyes were heavy on her cheeks. She'd lost weight, but it had been over a year… almost a year and a half, and her eyes – he knew they were blue – were wide with fear. 

"Saran, it's okay," he said outwardly calm. "I'm sorry, okay, we can talk." 

"Tell… t-tell them to put the guns away," she was shaking so much he worried that the gun would go off in her hand. Her normally soft voice was taught and discordant with emotion. 

"Nobody needs the guns," he said, taking a hesitant step forward when the heavy weapon started to dip in her hands. He stopped when she brought it up again, bringing her left hand to cradle the right. He held his hands out to the side. 

"Tell them…" she squeaked, then almost screamed, "And shut these people up! I can't think… I can't…" 

He nodded to his two agents. "Alex, secure this area. Call it in…" 

"Wait!" Saran instructed. "What do you mean?" 

"I'm assuming the last thing you want is this place crawling with cops," he said to the terrified woman and then added, "Do it Alex. Jake…" 

He waved his hand closest to Jake down toward the ground and out of the corner of his eye saw Jake lower his weapon, but knew he held it still ready for use. 

"They're always heavier than you think they're going to be," he continued softly, nodding toward the weapon she held. "Why don't you give me the gun and we can sit down and talk, hmm?" 

"I… I tried your cell phone… it was disconnected." It was a totally ridiculous thing for her to have said, shaking her head as she was, but he understood. Her mind was bouncing around like a rubber ball. That made the situation dangerous. Any other stand-off and he would have been confident he could resolve the incident without bloodshed, now he could only pray that he could. 

"I've moved on, Saran," he said, taking a slow and careful step forward. The noise behind him started to dissipate as Alex cleared the bar. "I have a new job now – a new apartment." 

He slowly continued to take step after step toward the trembling woman. 

"T –there… I could never get through at work. I… I don't know where to start," she said. He could see she was fighting to keep the weapon raised, pointing in his direction. 

"Why don't you start by giving me the gun?" he suggested softly. 

"Why," she implored, "couldn't you just leave it alone?" 

"What, Saran?" he took another careful step toward her. He was almost there, but saw her flinch. He held his breath as her finger shook against the smooth metal of the trigger. "I can't help you unless you tell me what's going on." 

Her face creased in emotional pain and she let out a sudden shuddering sob, tears beginning to flow down her face. The gun twitched in her hand and Jake started to raise his weapon. Frank flung out a hand to stop him. 

"Stow it, Agent Shaw," he growled, and started to reach forward toward Saran Farlain, the woman that had shared some of the best times in his life. 

"I'm scared Frank," she barely managed to force the words out past the sobs and the tears. 

"I know, baby," his whispered for her only, "I know. Give me the gun." 

He reached forward a little more closing his opened hand around each side of the gun barrel as she started to relinquish the weapon. 

"That's it…" he barely dared to breathe as he felt the weight of the gun starting to settle into the palms of his hands, the barrel of the gun was still pointing at him and he needed to turn it aside. 

** 

He peeped up over the top of the bar. There were just two of them now, and the woman with the gun. They had her distracted; one of them almost had her in his grasp. They were Feds. He didn't like having Feds in his bar. It discouraged a certain kind of clientele that more than doubled his revenue from time to time. 

He needed to get them out. He needed to end this, and end it more quickly than Mr Softly-softly was getting things done. With the woman distracted… 

He reached for the weapon stashed under the counter of the bar. 

** 

"Put it down!" Alex suddenly cried out from behind him, she may have said more, but he didn't hear it. The air in front of him exploded into sound and heat and pain. 

A white hot fist slammed into him, against his chest, exploding through him as a fiery destructive trail. A second, hard on the heels of the first, higher and more centrally – knocked him and he staggered back. 

A third gunshot vaguely registered somewhere a long way outside of the dark blanket that was descending over him. The tried to take a breath and felt as though he were drowning, and hardly noticed the impact against his knees as the ground leaped up toward him. 

** 

Just as she turned back from ushering the last of the customers out of the door she caught a flash of movement out of the corner of her eyes. She watched the barman straighten up from behind the bar, holding a gun pointing in the woman's direction. 

"Put it down!" she yelled, snatching out her own weapon. 

The woman in front of Frank let out a small scream. Tightly wound, as she was, it was all that it took and before Alex's horrified eyes, in reflex her finger tightened on the trigger. 

"Jake!" Alex yelled, covering the bar keep she couldn't also deal with the woman. She flicked her eyes his way and saw his gun come up, but it was not quick enough. 

Two clear shots rang out in the horrified heartbeat of silence that descended in the wake of the woman's scream, and Frank staggered back, as a third shot – Jake's weapon – followed. 

She crossed the room and caught her boss before he fully hit the ground. She ripped off her jacket and screwed it up into a ball to press it as hard as she could against his chest, trying to stem the flow of blood. He was coughing, and where she wrapped her arm bare across his back, she felt the heat of his blood. 

"Al-ex," he gasped, blood flecking his lips as he forced the air – precious and irreplaceable – over his teeth and tongue to make the words. "Not… h…" 

"Frank no," she moaned. "Don't try and talk." 

She flicked her head around in search of Jake and took the time to pull her cell phone out of her pocket and throw it in his direction as he stood up from checking the woman he'd winged with his disabling shot. Then she pressed her hand back against the jacket with which she vainly tried to stop Frank's bleeding. He tried to push her hand away, but had no strength. 

"Frank Donovan don't you dare do this to me!" she snapped at him through clenched teeth, fighting with the emotions rising in her memory of another place and time – and another man, whom she had love, and who died in her arms. 

"I won't accept this," she said firmly. "I won't accept this!" 

"EMT's are already on their way." Jake crouched beside her. Moving her hands away from the jacket and peeling it aside to look at the damage. She saw him wince. "From when you called it in." 

"He's not going to make it," she whimpered, sitting back on her heels and bringing a shaking hand, that was red with Frank's blood, to wipe away tears she hadn't even realised she was crying. 

"He'll make it," Jake said, without looking up from the dying man on the ground. "He's too bloody minded not to!" 

*******************************   


If… In the End – Act 1 

_Even after all the years and everything that has happened I can still remember quite vividly the first time I ever saw him._

_I'm an artist – oh not with paints or pastels, but with words – a poet, though I hate that word as it conjures up images of musty, wrinkled old men writing unfathomable verse. So… I was sitting beside the river, watching. Watching nature, watching the few people that went past. He was one of those people._

_He had been running, and for quite a while I'd say. The singlet he wore was damp with sweat, showing the muscled planes of his chest through the fabric as he jogged along the towpath. His muscles moved in harmonic counterpoint to the pistons his arms had become. He was breathing hard, in time with his long striding steps and looked every bit the athletic, fit young man I believed him to be._

_I found myself suddenly breathless as he got nearer, but he was so lost in his little world that he didn't see me at all. Or so I was to believe for quite a while._

_We actually met about a week later in the Northern Trust Bank on South La Salle. I hate banking at lunch time. It's always crowded and hurried, but I had little choice that day. I'd received a royalties cheque, thank God… because my account was about to go the wrong side of the wire thanks to my bastard of an ex-husband who had yet again refused to pay his share of the mortgage. Although we were divorced, and had been for a couple of years, as part of the settlement, he'd agreed to still pay one forth of the mortgage. I really needed to get that money into the account._

_We arrived at the same time, he and I, and I almost turned right around and walked the other way in spite of the urgency of my situation, but at the very moment I was going to turn around he looked up and straight into my eyes._

_I was like a deer, caught in the headlights of a car, and I know that's a cliché, but that's exactly the way I felt. Captured in his dark eyes and fascinated by the way the goatee beard framed his full lips that looked incredibly inviting even if they were set into a firm line._

_Then he reached out and opened the door._

_"Please," he said, indicating with a wave of his long fingered hand that I should go before him. But his voice – it wrapped itself around me like a warm blanket._

_"Thank you," I virtually whispered._

_"You're welcome," His ushering hand settled in the briefest of touches in the small of my back and I felt as if I'd been touched by a live wire._

_I couldn't remember the last time a man held a door for me… especially one as masculine and almost classically divine as he was. The thought somehow helped me to catch a hold of my wits and to remember the promise I'd made to myself not to get involved with another man for a very long time._

_"Not from around here are you?" I asked as he moved to stand behind me in the line._

_"No," he said quietly. "I just moved here,"_

_I think he was going to say more, but his pager went off. The sudden sound made me jump and he raised an eyebrow, and then moved the bottom of his jacket aside to glance at the pager. He sighed._

_"Duty calls, hmm?" I asked, though truly it was none of my business._

_"Yes it does," he said and sounded worried. "Excuse me." And he turned around and walked from the bank. Such an innocuous beginning._   


**UC CRIB: 6.30am Friday**

He loved it at this time in the morning. None of the rest of the team would be in until at least eight. It gave him the chance to maintain the essential technical equipment. And keep his reputation as untarnished as it was. 

Bringing his coffee to the briefing table he turned on the many computers and logged in. 

"Incoming mail," The wav sound played as the computers finished booting up, not unusual. There was usually a string of mail and most of it garbage, which he sorted through, and separated into the ones that were relevant or important to the many cases and those headed for the oblivion of the recycle bin. Cody took pride in his work. 

It leaped out of the screen and hit him right away, marked highest priority as it was, and addressed to the UC team. He opened it cautiously after running three separate virus scans on it. 

It was a short message, but something about it sent a tight whorl of knotted worry into his belly. 

_To: uskel2321197@fbi.gov_   
_From:laiuqo@hotmail.com_   
_Subject: Case relevant. Vital importance_

_I don't know how you might do it, but I beg of you, please don't let Donovan take the Masterton case._   
_SCF_

Still feeling the unwelcome knot, but now with something to push against, he set to work on the mail, as he set the "trace-route" programme running he skated his chair across the panel of computers and snatched up the headset that was attached to the computer controlling the com and hit a sequence of keystrokes, before returning to the original pc. 

"Come on Jake, pick up!" he whispered as the programme sent back the results. Whoever sent the mail hadn't even tried to cover their tracks, but… he swore softly. The originating computer was in a downtown library. He'd put money on the account being just some poor unfortunate that happened to have forgotten to log out properly. 

** 

**RESIDENCE JAKE SHAW: 6.40am Friday**

He groaned as he finally registered the telephone ringing and that it was not going to stop. It meant it had to be one person. 

"This had better be good Cody!" he said crossly as he snatched up the bedside receiver and rubbed his hand across his eyes and looked at the clock. 

"I need you down here as quick as you can – and definitely before Frank." 

"What's going on?" Suddenly he was wide awake. 

"I'll tell you as soon as you get here," Cody hung up before he could ask another question. He sounded odd, as though he was trying to hold some kind of stress under wraps. And in before Frank… 

He leaped up out of bed. Cody must have finally cracked the encryption on the file they had found in Donovan's personal record. That had to be it. He checked his watch. If he hurried, he could be there in thirty minutes. 

** 

**UC CRIB: 7.15am Friday**

"It could have been sent by anyone," Alex argued, looking at the printout that Cody had given her. "Like you said, whoever this SCF is, she or he, I mean you're only assuming it's a woman, sent it from someone's email account at a public library." 

"And we don't even know that Frank's going to be bringing in a case of that name… what the hell is it anyway?" Jake added. Alex thought that he looked disappointed. 

"Until we do we should just…" 

"Hello?" Cody exploded. "Trouble for Frank involves us. It means trouble for us. Or maybe you're forgetting that. I don't believe you guys, we could be in serious trouble and you…" 

"All right Cody, all right," Monica put a hand onto his arm. "We hear you, we do, but can't you see that we just don't have enough to go on we…" 

"When has that ever stopped us?" he mumbled, throwing himself back into his chair and retrieving the data for the woman whose email account had spawned the mail that had thrown him into this mood that Alex saw as being close to panic. She frowned. 

"We don't even know if this is legit." Jake protested. 

She looked over at him. He was the only one of the group that hadn't softened in the face of the mood that Cody had inspired. 

"Jake," she called softly, stopping his tirade. To Cody she added, "How would it be if I we agreed that if Donovan comes in here with this "Masterton" case, we'll consider investigating this, hmm?" 

Cody sighed. 

"Good enough I guess," he said softly.   
  
  


_It was two weeks before I saw him again._

_I'd had THE morning from hell. A meeting with my attorney had gone badly. Alan was refusing to make the payments any longer and what's more he was demanding that I buy him out of the house altogether. I was left with the conclusion that I was going to have to either sell the house or take out a second mortgage to be able to do that. I wasn't about to take that lying down._

_Then a meeting with my agent had topped it off with the gem that unless I gave them ten more folios for the poetry collection that Capunburn were going to publish, they were pulling the plug altogether. It wasn't that I couldn't give them the extra work, just that it put more pressure on me that I just didn't need. I felt like crying._

_"Hi again." His voice drew my face up from the table top of the café I often frequented on my business mornings. I tried to smile. I think it came out as more of a grimace because he added, "You want me to get out of your hair right?"_

_"What?" I didn't… if anything the opposite. Any other person and yes maybe I would have told them to get lost, but I simply found him the most amazing enigma, and once more forgot totally about my promise._

_He was handsome – more than that he was perfect and should have long since been snapped up, but there was not evidence of a woman in his life. He was masculine to the point of appearing hard and dangerous and yet he had been the first man in more time than I can remember to hold a door for me, and he was sensitive enough to know that I was having a dreadful day as he continued._

_"Looks like you're having a hell of a day?"_

_"Yeah," I sighed. "You could say that."_

_"You want some company?" he asked._

_"Thanks, I'd like that." I blushed. I actually felt the progress of the flush as it spread over my face. He didn't mention it._

_"Refill?" He pointed at the coffee cup I was cradling. I nodded and thanked him again. He shook his head, meaning that it was not a problem as he signalled the waitress. "Frank Donovan," he said._

_"Saran Farlain," I responded, and then sat back as the waitress refilled my cup and poured coffee into his empty cup._

_"Can I get you anything else?" she asked._

_"Thank you, I'm fine," he said. "Saran?"_

_"No, no." I said. "I'm good thanks."_

_He glanced at the waitress, summarily dismissing her and turned those dark eyes back in my direction._

_"I apologise for running out on our last conversation," he said quietly._

_Of all the things he could have said it was the last thing I expected and it made me laugh. He smiled a little, more in his eyes than in his face._

_"When you gotta go…" I said recovering from the laughter but not from the warmth the smile kindled in me. "I hope it was nothing too serious."_

_"We got a result," he answered, the smile fading. I knew not to ask any more of my enigmatic companion on that subject._

_"That's good," I said instead._

_"And how about you?" he asked and I frowned in confusion then gave him and a startled look as he said, "That day beside the river. You looked as though you had the weight of the world on your shoulders."_

_I could have died. I didn't think he'd noticed me, and to think he must have seen the way I had been looking at him… watching him. I swallowed hard._

_"No," I assured him. "I was just watching the world go by, waiting for inspiration."_

_"Artist?"_

_"Of sorts," I answered with a soft smile._

_"I'd be interested to see some of your work," he said seriously and I felt that rising colour again._

_"I hardly know you," I protested and then kicked myself. It was a ridiculous thing to say and gave him the perfect opening._

_"Then maybe we should have dinner some time," he suggested._

_Dinner, dear god the man didn't hang around – and I bolted. Dinner was a big step for me, especially since I was already breaking my word to myself even in having coffee with him._

_"I erm… I really don't know I…" I stuttered_

_He reached across the table and gently laid a warm hand over the top of mine. His fingers were long, and I could feel their strength. The contact sent a tremor of something extremely needful and personal through me that had me almost bucking and agreeing in the next breath._

_"Saran, it's okay, really," he smiled. "Why don't I give you a call some time? Let me have your number and next time I'm around we can maybe have coffee."_

_Coffee… coffee was safe. I reached into my purse for one of my business cards and passed it over to him._

_"Thank you," I said. "I'm sorry, I…"_

_He held up a hand to stop me from struggling any further. "It's fine, really. Not a problem, but you'll have to excuse me. I have to get back to work."_

_"Of course," I blushed again – I was starting to hate that. I watched him reach inside his jacket for his wallet and slipped my card inside. Until he did that I was sure I'd never see him again. Afterward, I was almost certain that I would. He bid a quiet farewell and walked over to the counter to pay for the coffee, before leaving._

_A few moments later the waitress returned to the table and set down a fresh cup of steaming hot coffee in front of me and a folded piece of paper._

_"From the gentleman that just left," she said and returned to her station. I opened the piece of paper and read…_

_"In case you change your mind, Frank. 312-555-4311"_   
  
  


**UC CRIB: 7.50am Friday**

Frank blinked in surprise as he walked in and saw the whole team waiting for him. 

"Good morning," he said softly, frowning in confused suspicion as he put the files down onto the table top. "Thank you all for being so punctual." 

"You want some coffee?" Alex answered, handing up a coffee cup into his now empty hand and taking the slide carousel from him to fit it into the projector. 

"Someone want to tell me what's going on?" he said, feeling more than a little off balance. Everyone looked at Monica, so he did too. 

"They've spent the last eight months giving you a hard time," she shrugged, a note of speculation in her voice. "Maybe they're feeling guilty." 

He gave her a look and she shrugged again, by which time Alex was back in her seat and they were all looking at him expectantly. Letting it go for the moment, though not forgetting the prickling sense that he was being excluded from something he placed the files onto the table in front of his agents and turned out the main lights, at the same time hitting the button to bring the projector to life. 

He shivered as the first of the slides came into view on the screen, a tall man, jogging, in sweat pants and a green t-shirt that hid nothing of his bulky physique. His short brown hair was slightly windblown and he had a furious expression on his face. 

"The subject's name is Iain Reeves-Masterton," he schooled his voice to be neutral, deep and low to avoid any emotion that might have crept into it, as he flicked through the slides that accompanied his briefing. 

"Investigations almost conclusively proved that he was responsible for several arms deals involving military forces in the former Soviet Union and several Middle Eastern underground organisations. 

"Then without any warning the case was buried, and most of the evidence lost until several years later when allegations of arms shipments to rebel forces in Eastern Europe began to surface. He was the obvious candidate, but attempts to detain him were unsuccessful and even requests to question him made by AFT agents were denied before finally they were ordered to drop the case, their superiors citing the death of one of their agents several years previously as the reason for cessation of their involvement. 

"Sixteen months ago he orchestrated an elaborate," he sighed, and swallowed a mouthful of coffee – cold by now – to cover the slip, "distraction to throw investigators off the paper trail that might have led to the identity of his collaborator; the name of the man that had ordered the closure of the investigations." 

He pressed the button one last time to flick to the one slide guaranteed to get a rise out of his team: A picture of Agent Iain Reeves-Masterton taken in the line of duty. 

"However, since the sudden marked increase in domestic terrorism, the director has ordered investigations be re-opened as he believes Reeves-Masterton may be behind the supply of armaments. Naturally, ATF don't want the case, even though it is within their jurisdiction, so Bloom suggested that we might be able to get to the man at the top and take both him and Reeves-Masterton down." 

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Jake finally exploded. Frank almost smiled. If he could have picked one of them to object it would have been Jake. He watched his agent point to the screen. "That guy is a Spook." 

"Very astute of you, Jake," he said. "He is indeed CIA, which may also mean that this reaches higher than anyone is comfortable with." 

He paused, looking over each of his horrified agent's faces. It appeared that uncomfortable didn't even come close to describing the feelings of his team. 

"I will personally authorise a temporary leave of absence to any of you that feel unable to work on this case," he said. 

Not one of them moved.   
  
  


_We met for coffee several more times before I actually agreed to entertain the notion of dinner. He was patient and persistent, I'll grant him that. He was also good company and very positive._

_I can't ever remember him saying the word "no," in all the time I knew him. It was almost as if it wasn't in his vocabulary. If I suggested something that he obviously didn't like, he would make a alternative suggestion and listen to my response – more than just the words I was saying – until we came up with something on which we could both agree. It was almost as if we were negotiating the progress of our relationship_

_But I'm getting ahead of myself…_

_After our fourth coffee meeting, as he left, he actually tried to kiss my cheek. I think I might have offended him a little when I pulled away, because it was a while before he called again to suggest another meeting, but I couldn't help myself._

_I was so startled that he would do that I just pulled back and stared up at him in astonishment and afterwards I sat there at the table, my heart racing and kicking myself – and cursing Alan for what he'd done to me._

_I'd not been quite as miserable as I was in those three weeks that passed without seeing Frank in a long time and then out of the blue he called me._

_"Coffee?" he said as I answered. I could hear the smile in his voice._

_"Frank!"_

_"Who else would be calling you at this time in the day and suggesting coffee?" he teased. It made me look at my watch. It was five forty in the evening. He must have heard my hesitation because he said, "Just coffee – no problems."_

_"Frank I…" I meant to apologise for the last time we saw each other._

_"You want me to pick you up?" he didn't let me._

_"Would you?" It would have taken me about an hour to get to our usual haunt at this time of the day._

_"Sure," he agreed. "Be there in ten."_

_"Where are you?" I frowned. He had to be fairly close if he was going to get here in ten minutes._

_"Corner of West Washington and North May," he answered. "Just a second."_

_He went quiet for a moment, no doubt negotiating the corner, and I started fretting. He was going to be here really soon and I was nowhere near ready – not fit for any company, let alone his. I made a grab for the cordless and high tailed it up to my room to change._

_"You still there?" His voice purred in my ear._

_"Yep," I answered, pulling the sweater off over my head and grabbing a more respectable one._

_"What are you doing?" he asked, I could hear the frown of puzzlement that would be on his face._

_"Changing," I confessed._

_"I'm sure you look fine."_

_"Shows what you know," I quipped, and he chuckled. It was nearly my undoing and I had to sit down heavily on the bed as all the breath rushed out of me at the warm, almost suggestive sound in my ear._

_"Okay, Saran," he said on the end of the chuckle. "I will let you finish changing and see you in five." He hung up before I had a chance to say anything else._

_About a minute later the phone rang again and thinking he'd called back I picked up the telephone and answered cheerfully, "Hi again."_

_"Well hello to you too, bitch."_

_"Alan…" I gasped._

_"What the fuck are you playing at?" he snapped. "I told you, no argument."_

_"I don't have time for this," I told him. "I said all I was going to through my attorney, and if you want to take it further, you'll have to speak to him."_

_Before we got caught up in arguing again about me buying him out of the house I hung up the phone and pulled on the rest of my clothes, ignoring the phone when it rang again. That would come back to bite me in the ass, but I didn't want to deal with it just then – or the way he always made me feel vulnerable and under pressure._

_Frank arrived and I could quite easily have thrown a hug around him. I didn't, but I thought about it. Which again made me wonder just what I was getting myself into with these frequent meeting. It might actually have been that moment that started me thinking about accepting his dinner invitation._

_"Hi," I greeted him, somewhat subdued, and still ignoring the ringing phone._

_"You want to get that?" he asked, "I can wait."_

_"No it's okay. If it's important, they'll call back," I said, a little flat and he turned his head on one side to give me a querying look. I shook my head._

_"Okay," he said. "You have your keys?"_

_When I nodded, he reached past me and closed the door for me, and then with that same slight contact as when he ushered me into the bank all that time ago, he guided me toward his car._

_We settled into our usual corner table and the waitress, shaking her head and smiling in amusement brought out habitual coffee to the table, leaving right away._

_Sitting opposite from me Frank peeked down at my lowered head and asked, "You want to talk about it?"_

_I sighed. "My ex is being a prick," I said._

_"And that was him on the phone, right?" he surmised. I nodded. "Will you be okay?"_

_I squeezed my eyes shut. I didn't want to talk about this and the concern – genuine concern that I felt from him as he asked that – brought me one step closer to dinner._

_"Saran?" he reached out and took my hand. "You can tell me to mind my own business if you want to, but if you need my help, you call me, right? It doesn't matter the time."_

_I looked up and him and smiled faintly. "Thank, but would you mind… I really don't want to talk about Alan."_

_He nodded and suggested cake to go with the coffee._

_"If you can risk eating cake that is," he teased. It had the desired effect and made me laugh… although I blushed as well – damn the man!_

_So we had cake… and it wasn't quite dinner, and nor was it just coffee, but I was comfortable with that. I don't know how long or about what we spent the evening talking, I don't remember, but it all came apart when his cell phone rang unexpectedly. He checked the display for the number._

_"Excuse me, I need to take this," he apologised and answering said, "Donovan."_

_His face fell into the serious expression it had when we had first started seeing each other – where the hell did that thought come from – did having coffee together on a regular basis count as dating?_

_"What?" he continued and he gave me an apologetic look. I knew he was going to have to go. "When? How long ago?"_

_"It's okay," I mouthed to him, but he frowned and shook his head._

_"I will be with you as soon as I can," he told the person on the other end of the phone. "Saran, I'm sorry, that was work. I have to go."_

_"I know. I guessed," I answered, and reached out to put my hand – trembling from my earlier musing – onto his arm, standing up at the same time he did._

_"I'll call you soon," he sounded frustrated. "Will you be all right to get home? I don't want you to think I'm abandoning you, but I…"_

_"It's all right," I said, recognising that whatever had prompted the call was urgent. "Go."_

_"You're sure?"_

_"Frank…" He reached out to briefly brush his fingers down the side of my face. I froze, determined not to flinch. The touch of his fingers liquefied not only my knees but my entire body, insides, outside – everything – and then it was gone as quickly as it had begun._

_"I'll see you soon," he said._

_My eyes had close and when I opened them he was at the door. Something made him stop and turn back, and then come back to my side. I looked up at him in query at just the moment he leaned down toward me. Before I even had a chance to register his intention to kiss me, his lips had landed softly against my cheek, his light beard scratching slightly, enlivening the kiss. My hand pressed against his chest, not that I'd registered even moving it, to feel his heart beating strongly and a little fast against my fingers, and then he once more straightened up._

_"When the lady is ready, call her a cab." He told the waitress, and raised his eyebrows in my direction to prevent me from arguing. I couldn't have contradicted him if my life depended on it. I was still reeling from the sudden breech of the unspoken restraint that was between us._   
  
  


**UC CRIB: 7.40pm Saturday**

"Is this where I say, 'told you so'," he asked quietly as Jake and Alex came back in from where they had been trying to find the owner of the email address. "Or did you actually manage to find something." 

"Has he gone home?" Alex asked. 

"Nope," Cody answered. "Upstairs with Monica, working out the details of Jake's cover." 

"So you haven't managed to start the decryption software on the file we found?" Jake asked. 

"Oh it's running," he answered. "Just not getting anywhere." 

He reached out and flicked the switch on the bottom of a monitor, while glancing up toward the stairs. 

"Don't want to get your juices flowing or anything," he said, "But one thing I have found about it. It's the same basic encryption pattern as Frank's file." 

He glanced at the screen and then waved a hand toward where the numbers were flicking through the millions of combinations possible for the decryption of the file. 

"Nada!" he hissed, frustrated. "What about you two?" 

"Vague description of a woman at the library that the librarian said looked, quote/unquote, "tense" – list of names of all the people registered to use the computer bank that day – that's all. No-one with the initial SCF," Alex answered. 

"Let me have the list, I'll run them all," Cody offered, and took photocopy of the list from her. "Jake?" 

"I got a meeting with a guy from the AFT that worked the case at nine," he answered. 

"Where?" 

"Barnardo's, down town," Jake answered, and then added, "Yeah, yeah, I know, Alex. I'll be careful." 

"You better," she said. "If you're going UC, last think you want is a messed up face." 

** 

**FRANK DONOVAN'S OFFICE: 10pm Saturday**

He'd long since send them home, but couldn't go home himself. He closed his eyes and sighed. The cover was good – Monica had worked hard on it. Everything was all set to go. Why in the hell did he feel so uneasy about it? 

There had to be something he'd missed – some key that would let him crack the case this time and put the bastards away for good. At least then he knew that, wherever she was – if she was still alive… he growled away the thought – that she would be safe. And he could finally lay the other ghosts to rest. 

He shuddered and let out another long slow sigh. 

He flipped open the file – the one he hadn't shown any of the others – and then covered his face with his hands and let out his breath in a rush. He didn't need to see the photograph that he knew would be staring up at him out of the file. 

He knew every inch of her face, of all of her. He could still see the sky blue in her eyes, framed by long dark lashes and the light brown of her hair, with the red gold flecks that ran thought it; the pale peach of her skin and the blush of her full lips, but he took his hands away to look none the less, to stop the thoughts of the way she fit him perfectly, even thought she was a small, slight little thing that he probably could have broken like a twig…   
  
  


_Expecting Frank to pick me up for that much anticipated dinner date – finally – I threw open the door with a happy and excited smile on my face that fell when I saw who it was. I didn't even have time to close the door on him before he'd reached out and grabbed the front of my dress and slammed me against the side of the porch, before pulling me away again, to hang almost from his hands, the tips of my toes barely touching the ground. I tried to fight my way free, but his grip was just too strong._

_"Alan, please," I gasped, pressing my hands against his chest, still trying to escape. "I told you, we have to let the matter go through the courts again."_

_"And I told you, you're selling the house!" he snapped, his breath hot on my face._

_"No," I was so close to tears; so afraid of what he might do that I couldn't think straight. "This isn't helping, Alan. You're supposed to stay away, you…"_

_He cut me off by swinging me again at the side of the porch. My head hit the corner of the brickwork and stars exploded in my vision, my legs folded under me and it was only his strong grasp on my dress that kept me upright. I felt something warm trickle down the side of my face._

_"Hey," Alan's grip loosened slightly as the shout, followed by the rapid footsteps came closer. "Let her go!"_

_"Fuck you!" Alan threw the words back over his shoulder, and through blurry eyes, both from the blow on the head and from the lack of oxygen I saw Frank, dashing across the driveway, his car was parked at an angle across the road._

_"Let her go, and step away," Frank instructed in a voice that sounded as though it was the kind of thing he said every day of his life._

_"Mind your own business," Alan replied, sounding bored, and then added, "And get the hell off my lawn."_

_"Alan," I didn't realise how close to choking I was until I tried to take a breath and couldn't. He sifted his grasp a little as I struggled and I managed a gasping breath and turned my head to Frank, panicking – hating that he had to see this. I was afraid it would scare him off. Too much baggage… but then he did something that I never would have believed possible. He reached inside his jacket and his hand came out holding a gun._

_I didn't even have the strength to react to the shock and horror that flooded though me just then, because Alan let me go and I staggered back to sit heavily against the porch step, watching the drama in front of me._

_"Whoa, easy," Alan raised his hands and backed away slightly. Frank had side stepped to put himself between me and my ex husband. He reached into another pocket and took out a black, wallet-like cover, which he flipped in Alan's direction._

_"Hands on the hood of the car," he instructed, nodding toward Alan's car that I hadn't even seen in the driveway._

_I grabbed the wall for support, feeling suddenly sick as I watched Alan do exactly as he was told – always a first time, I snorted – before Frank followed, still covering him with the gun, and took cuffs from his back pocket._

_"I didn't know, man! I didn't know," Alan whined. I closed my eyes against the gathering ache and only heard the cuffs closing around his wrists. Something about him whining – didn't exactly move me to pity but I knew he'd had a taste of his own medicine – I just wanted him gone… and I didn't want the whole fuss that went along with getting him arrested for breaking his injunction._

_"Frank," I breathed. "Just let him go… please. I don't want to press charges."_

_"You sure?" I opened my eyes in time to see him pull Alan from the car and turn him around, before returning his weapon to its holster. Alan's face was white and he looked as if he was going to mess himself. He looked pathetic._

_"Yeah, I'm sure. I just want him the hell out of my life." I felt tears prickling at the back of my eyes._

_I think I must have phased out for a moment, because when I became aware of what was going on again, Alan was gone, Frank's car was in the driveway and Frank was there in front of me. He was crouching in front of me, one hand on my elbow, the other gently turning my face to the left._

_I breathed his name, holding onto the emotion that was threatening to flood through me just then for all I was worth._

_"It's all right, Saran," he said softly. "Let's get you inside, clean up that cut."_

_He practically lifted me up, and I clung to him as he led me into the house, and into the lounge to sit me on the couch. I felt cold when he let go and reached for him again. He took my hand._

_"It's okay. I'm just going to get the first aid kit from my car," he told me. "I'll be right back."_

_I nodded, and instantly regretted it as the ache in my head increased. I tried to sit still until he returned, but my mind was jumping all over the place. A gun… cuffs… his sure manner. Was he a cop? Was that why he had to keep running off?_

_"Saran?" His soft voice made me open my eyes again._

_"I'm okay."_

_"Hmmm," he had an extremely concerned look on his face. "Not too sure about that, honey. I think maybe the ER might be…"_

_"I don't want to go to the hospital." My lip started trembling. "Please… just…"_

_He sighed and opened the first aid kit that was on the floor beside him. It was not the average in-car first aid kit… he saw me looking and turned my head away as he took an antiseptic wipe from its wrapper._

_"You promise me that if I think you're getting worse, you won't fight me, and I'll hold off for now. Deal?" he asked._

_"I promise," I told him._

_"This is going to sting," he warned._

_I hissed loudly and grabbed the cushion as he started to clean up the cut that the corner of the wall had made on my temple. It cleared my head for a little while at least. For long enough to notice the two tape stitches he was fixing into place._

_"I want you to go to your doctor's office in the morning," he said firmly as he covered the injury with some gauze and taped it into place. "How do you feel?"_

_"Foolish," I said mournfully. "I'm sorry you had to see that Frank."_

_He smiled gently and shook his head, telling me that it wasn't a problem. Then he packed up the first aid kit and moved to sit beside me on the couch, but not before he had unclipped the gun holster from his side and put it on the table with the kit. I couldn't help but watch._

_"You're a cop," I said. He turned toward me and took a hold of my hand again._

_"Would it bother you?" he asked, and he looked – I don't know – somehow vulnerable and lost as he waited for my answer that it made me chuckle slightly._

_"No of course not," I frowned in confusion. "Why would it?"_

_He sighed and handed me the same black wallet that he had flashed at Alan and said, "I wouldn't expect being a cop to bother anyone. That might."_

_I looked up at him, suddenly nervous and he nodded at the ID. I opened it slowly and breathed out the breath I'd been holding as I saw the three letters that graced the side of the badge. Not a cop then, but an FBI agent._

_I blinked and then swallowed. My head ached, but it didn't stop me from coming to the same conclusion I would have reached with a clear head, at any other time in my life. It didn't change the fact that he was patient, kind, good company, attractive, gentle…_

_"Frank," I said at last, handing back his identification. "Why would your being a Federal Agent bother me?"_

_"It doesn't?" he asked, no doubt thinking of the length of time I'd been sitting silently staring at his badge._

_"It's different," I admitted, not quite what to say to reassure him. "But it doesn't change the way I feel. If I didn't feel like my head was about to explode, I'd still want to go to dinner with you."_

_The slightest of smiles twitched at the corner of his mouth for a moment._

_"That could just mean you're still hungry," he said deadpan._

_"It could, but it doesn't." I freed my hand from his and pressed it against his chest. His chest rose and fell, warm beneath my touch, his heart beat slow and steady against my fingers._

_"It was never that I was particularly hungry that I agreed to come to dinner with you," I whispered._

_His right hand came up to cover mine, while his left reached out to cup the side of my face. Almost three months to get to this point, in this day and age it might as well have been forever, and that he'd waited – never pushing… until now._

_He leaned down to brush his lips against mine… softly… I could almost have said tenderly, except that I couldn't say anything at all. My fingers curled around his against his chest and my lips parted slightly to let out the tiniest of whimpers. It had been almost two years since I'd been kissed and in spite of the fact that I'd seen it coming, and had perhaps even invited it, I wasn't sure I was ready._

_Ready or not, as my lips parted he moved again and captured them beneath his own, more firmly, a brushing caress as his fingers slipped carefully backward into my hair, avoiding my injured head to make the contact firmer._

_Everything I was, and ever could have been started coming unravelled at the feel of his lips possessing mine, the feel of his beard against the softness of my face and then the brush of his tongue along the line of my lips. I became water, no longer fighting with him, but leaning against him as I softened and melted into the kiss, allowing his tongue to caress mine, to map the shape of the soft moan that came from my mouth as the kiss deepened._

_He broke the kiss, and then held me close. It was only then I realised how much I was trembling…as his fingers stroked though my hair and he breathed against the top of my head._

_"Have you any idea how long I've needed to do that?" he asked softly a few moments later. I shook my head against his chest. He let out his breath in a long, slow, contented sigh._

_"Good," he said. "But since I came straight from work, I do also need to eat. I'll just go order dinner."_

_"Okay," I sat back from him, reluctant for him to let go now that we had got this far. "The phone is in the hallway."_

_"I know," he smiled as he got up, and I watched as he walked to the door and then leaned back against the couch to try and ease my aching head. I felt him behind me before his fingers brushed gentle at the sides of my head, and he kissed me again, up side down this time, and briefly._

_"I won't be long," he murmured._   
  


**UC CRIB: 7.30am Monday**

Cody looked up as one of the computers pinged at him then scooted his chair over toward the machine to see what the problem was. His face lit up when he saw it wasn't a problem at all, but that a search that had yielded a result. 

"Bingo!" he breathed in amazement as he read the information that came up on the screen. 

Saran Ceria Wilts, née Farlain. Marital status: divorced. 

He skimmed through the information, trying to find anything else that might make sense to him as to why she would be trying to get the team to stop Frank making them work this arms case. 

"SCF…" he mused, looking back at the initials she'd have if she used her maiden name. "Divorced… Jesus…" 

He whispered the words just as Alex came back into the room with the coffee. She must have seen his body language at once because she came tearing across the room. 

"What? What have you got?" she demanded. 

"I think I've got our mystery woman, but look," he pointed at the relevant line of information. "Someone ran this woman's details almost five and half years ago." 

"Who?" Alex asked. "Frank?" 

"Hold on," Cody expertly made a number of keystrokes, and entered a code that would send the request flashing round various FBI field offices to disguise the fact that it was his team that were requesting additional information. He swore and pounded the desk when the response came back. 

Access denied, please enter password to continue. 

"Well it looks like that answers the question," Alex said, peering over his shoulder. "It's standard practice for a senior agent to run potential…" 

"Yeah but you're forgetting this Reeves-Masterton is also a senior ranking agent. Just not with the FBI!" 

They both sighed in turn. 

"Is there no way you can crack that, Cody?" 

"Yeah sure," he answered sarcastically, "Given about, oh lets see – eight months so far isn't it?" 

"Point taken," Alex answered, and then moved in front of the monitor when the door opened even as he reached double quick for the power switch on the display. He stopped at Alex's exclamation. 

"Jesus, Jake," she gasped, "What happened to you?" 

He waved her away as she came to help him to a seat and limped over to it by himself. 

"Did you manage to find anything on that list Cody," he asked, reluctantly allowing Alex to examine the cut on his eye and then unfasten his shirt to get at the obvious injury to his chest. 

"Only the name and address of our mystery Email sender," he answered proudly. 

"Jake who did this?" Alex asked, and Cody winced as he saw the gash across the front of Jake's chest. 

"More to the point how are we going to explain it to Donovan?" he said. 

"We're not," Jake said firmly. 

"What?" Alex exclaimed. 

"That meeting I had Saturday… guy didn't show." Jake winced as Alex set about cleaning him up. "Not until last night – when he showed up at my squash club intent on persuading me not to ask any more questions about old ATF investigations." 

"I told you to be careful," she said. 

"I was careful," he told her. "You should see the other guy." 

"You didn't," she demanded, roughly pushing back his head to get at the cut. 

"Oh brother," Cody hissed as he walked toward Jake's locker to find him a clean shirt. They could at least hide some of the evidence from Frank. 

"What was I supposed to do?" Jake asked, taking the shirt that he brought back to him and starting to put it on. "Roll over and play dead?" 

"I hope it was worth it." Cody nodded toward his eye. "Boss is going to want to know what you did to your eye – it's a mess." 

"Him wanting to know about my eye is the least of our worries," Jake said and finally pushed Alex away, snatching the antiseptic wipe from her hand and the mirror from the first aid kit he set about cleaning up his face himself. "Before he passed out, our friend from the ATF told me the name of the agent that died in that investigation." 

"And?" Alex prompted. 

Cody smiled. He knew how much she hated having to fish for information from Jake, and also how he loved to lord it over her when he had it. If they weren't so pressed for time it would have been funny to watch, but any minute now Frank Donovan was going to be walking through the door. 

"Come on, Jake. Spill!" he demanded. 

"We need to talk to the person that sent that Email Cody," Jake answered. "Because this case is not only dangerous… my guess is it's also personal… personal to Frank. It was his brother." 

"What?" Both Cody and Alex said together. 

"The agent that died, whose death got the ATF thrown off the case against Reeves-Masterton was Max Donovan." He said softly. "I'd say that makes it personal."   
  
  


_I have no idea what kind of a night we would have had if not for Alan's interference, but they say that everything happens for a reason, right?_

_Away from the public eye Frank was an amazingly sensitive, attentive and caring man. He ordered take out from the local Thai restaurant that had a delivery service, and we shared this in front of the warmth of the fire, long since abandoning the couch just so that… well I still blush when I think about it… just so that we could get close enough to hold each other as we wanted._

_He lounged against the couch and I lay against him, listening to the steady beat of his heart. So that I could rest in the safety and comfort I felt in his arms… that I always felt when he held me._

_"How's your head," he asked quietly._

_"Fine," I said. In truth I was almost dozing against him as he ran his fingers through my hair and gently stroked my hip and sides._

_"Saran?" he called and I looked up at him._

_For the second time that evening he captured my lips in the deepest, most sensual of kisses that I could ever remember. It was as if he were putting everything of himself into the way our lips met and moulded together… into the way his tongue swept into my mouth to tangle with mine._

_I wanted so much more in that moment that it almost hurt, but Alan had been such a selfish lover – besides which it had been such a long time for me – that I had no idea how to make him understand what I needed._

_His fingers moved as we kissed, over my back and upward on my side to brush the underside of my breast. I gasped, then moaned as sensations swept through me that I don't think I can ever remember having before. It felt as though his touch was pouring liquid fire inside me that made everything ache and tingle; that settled every atom of my awareness low in my belly and released a flow of need to the space between my legs that felt suddenly more than empty._

_"Frank!" I gasped, and he pulled back and moved his hand away from my breast. His head came forward to rest against my shoulder and he breathed apologies. The tension that spread through his body, that I could feel under my fingers was unreal, but still he stopped himself._

_"No." I cut off his apologies, "Please… I… I don't want you to stop."_

_He raised his face then from the crook of my neck, his deep brown eyes, darkened with passion bore into me, as if he was trying to fathom the truth of my words. As though I was trying to prove my intentions, I reached for the buttons on his shirt, and trembling with my own pent up needs, began to unfasten them. He grabbed my wrist._

_"Not here," he breathed, and nipped at the pulse point on the inside of it, soothing away the sting with his tongue and growled. "Come to bed."_

_I nodded shyly, and moved away to get up, but he stopped me, and once more pinned me down with a smouldering gaze._

_"Are you sure?" he asked._

_"I'm sure," I answered in a whisper. "But it's been a while."_

_He got up and helped me to my feet, taking me into a fervent embrace, and kissing me deeply, pressing the whole of his body close against mine as we shared breath, shared our very being through the kiss._

_I don't remember the journey up to the bedroom, but I do remember that by the time we fell together onto the bed, we were hardly wearing anything at all. I don't think there was anywhere his hands didn't touch and find me sensitive… alive to the feel of the heat from his hands, dying from each kiss he pressed against my neck and shoulders, and the way his beard scraped gently over my already sensitive flesh._

_My back arched as he cupped my breast in his long fingered hand and sank his mouth around my nipple to nip and suck – at first gently, maddeningly so – but then as passions flared, as my nails scraped over his back and my fingers kneaded his taught firm muscles he became almost furious in the way he devoured me._

_There wasn't an inch of him I didn't touch and find firm and hot under my fingers. Not a muscle that didn't respond to the way I touched him and the hardest of all he pressed against my hip as though to contain it until we were both ready to feel the moment we would join, inseparable for the rest of time._

_I skimmed my fingers along the line where our bodies met to find that caged firmness, to feel the heat of it with my hand. He broke from the kiss and gasped as my fingers encountered him, stroked him carefully and traced shape of the domed head of his desire risen._

_"Saran," he warned softly, little more than a growling moan, and nipped the sensitive flesh below my ear on the side of my neck. His fingers found their way to the top of my thighs and dipped between them._

_I raised my leg to encourage his fingers to find the place I needed his touch, pausing in my gentle assault on his sanity to hook his wrist with my own and draw his hand closer still to the heat at the centre of my body and then cried out when he touched me, raising my hips to try and catch that first fleeting touch and make it last._

_Far from teasing he pressed the touch against me, and into me, his thumb and the side of his hand squeezing against the silken nub as his fingers possessed the dewy satin within until gasping, my hand falling away from him and crying out for him, I shattered, pulsing against his rhythmic touch that did not slow or cease until he moved over me and surged inside._

_He filled me; stretched me to admit him deep within. My taught, still trembling muscles creating friction that made me moan softly as I felt each marvellous inch of his claiming me and making me his, as if time itself had slowed and was waiting for us to reach to point at which we would complete each other, be healed and made whole._

_He pressed against me, holding the both of us still until with a kiss that mirrored the action of our bodies below he moved inside me, and eased away to return again, alternately filling me and leaving me empty and aching for him._

_I clutched him to me each time I feared he would move too far away, my fingers tangled in the short hair at the nape of his neck as we kissed, as the pace of our love increased, consuming us both until we had to break from the kiss or risk drowning, each in the other._

_"Frank, please," I gasped, needing an end to the sweet, sharp tension that seemed to be all that I was. Such as delightful agony, I was lost in it. "Please…!"_

_My hands reached for the tight curves of his buttocks to pull him deeper inside and I actually felt the pulse of the wave that broke over us both in the next moment beginning somewhere deep inside him, where the base of him pressed against me._

_The rhythm broke and with a shuddering groan against my shoulder where his head came to rest, his liquid heat rushed into me. Pulse after pulse he spilled into me in time with the uncontrolled thrust of his hips that had me spiralling off to splinter under him, and crying out his name, I came not once, but seemingly in many almost frightening waves, that drank him deeper still, shaking… trembling… and sobbing with the rightness of it all at our release._   
  
  


**TABIARA MALAHAI CLUB: 9.45pm Tuesday**   


"You think she'll show?" Jake hissed at Alex as they sat intimately close, to hide that they were watching the door and the bar at the same time. 

"Invitation like we gave her?" she replied. "From Frank… of course she'll show." 

"Then where the hell is she," he asked. 

"Shut up and kiss me," she invited, "We're being watched." 

She buried her fingers into his hair and guided his mouth to find hers in the dim lit club, taking in a deep breath to push away the feelings that might have flowed through her as his tongue found its way into her mouth. She had no romantic feelings for Jake, she knew that, but hell she was flesh and blood and he was a good kisser. 

"At the bar, third seat from the left," he breathed in her ear as their lips parted. 

Pretending to laugh at something he said she moved back in the seat and turned to look at the place he'd directed her. The woman her eyes found there was almost exactly like the photograph that Cody had managed to extract from the file. Short, delicate – an almost elfin look – her hair, though longer was exactly the same shade of brown under the stronger lights near the bar. She wore pants and a light blue blouse, but the one thing that Alex really noticed was how pale she looked, and that she was shaking. 

** 

**UC CRIB: 9.50pm Tuesday**   


"All right, Cody, I'm going to ask you this question once, and once only," Frank didn't even greet his Tech-op as he stormed into the crib. "Where are they?" 

"Erm… who?" Cody tried. 

Frank crossed his arms and glared at Cody and then turned on Monica who was returning with the take out. 

"Shit!" she hissed. 

"Where are they Monica? And don't screw around – this gets messed up and people are going to die," he snapped. 

"Like Max?" she answered. 

"Don't," he raised his hand and pointed at her. "Don't try and psychoanalyse me." 

"Then why not trust us from the beginning," she backed up a step to remove his pointing finger from her personal space. 

"I could ask you the very same thing," he snapped and took a folded piece of paper from his jacket pocket. He shook it open and then slapped it into the middle of her chest. Then he threw a dangerous look over his shoulder at Cody. "Wherever they are Cody, I want them here by eight am sharp, both of you as well. This ends now!" 

He saw Monica glance at the piece of paper before he started for the door. She swore again and called after him. 

"Frank?" 

"Go home Agent Davis!" he instructed. 

"Where are you going?" she ignored his instruction. He slammed the door behind him. 

** 

**TABIARA MALAHAI CLUB: 10.15pm Tuesday**

It was almost as if she had heard him call her name, or somehow felt him walk in through the door. She turned slowly in her seat and watched. 

She hadn't seen him in over a year, but he was exactly as he always had been, looking darkly handsome and deadly serious. His eyes were scanning the people in the club, searching – she hoped – for her. 

She fought to keep the tears from her eyes, remembering the ultimatum she'd been given. You persuade him to drop the case, or kill him… Fail to do either and… she shook her head. The alternative was not something she was prepared to consider. 

Their eyes found the shared space and locked as he moved across the bar toward her. 

** 

Jake hissed in discomfort as Alex all but fell against his injured chest as she straddled him and then hissed again as she buried her head in the side of his neck. 

"You give me a hickey, Cross and I'll kill you," he growled then almost yelped as she grabbed a handful of hair and pulled his head down into the crook of her neck. "Alex!" 

"Jake, it's Donovan," she breathed against his neck. 

"What?" He wanted to look, but knew if he did they risked discovery, instead he sank lower in the booth. To the casual observer it would have looked as if he and Alex were getting into some seriously heavy petting. They wouldn't be the only ones. "How did he…?" 

"I don't know," she murmured and looked as though she was trying to see around his shoulder. "I can't see. You?" 

"Noth… wait, he's… Oh shit, he's talking to her." He sighed. "We are so busted!" 

"This isn't funny, Jake!" Alex slapped his arm. "And watch what you're doing with your hands." 

"Do I look like I'm laughing?" he snapped, sliding his hand from under her ass and then catching her when she almost fell. 

** 

She was trembling so hard she didn't know how she kept a hold of the drink that she had in her hand. Neither of them said anything, though he was giving her that look that meant he was waiting for her to speak, but she didn't know what to say, or where to start. Just as she found the end of a thread that might actually lead somewhere toward the desired end, he surprised her by speaking. 

"So what… this is it? You walk out, barely even leaving me a note and after a year and a half of nothing you just turn up and expect me to come running? No word of explanation – no apology?" his voice was clipped. She knew the tone and it brought tears to her eyes. 

"Frank I…" she stammered. 

"No – Saran!" he said sharply. The first time he'd even used the word in her presence. As if to belabour the point he repeated it. "No. Not this time. It's too late for that now." 

But he wouldn't meet her eyes… and she knew him well enough to know that this was important; that maybe he didn't mean what he said. 

"Please look at me," she said softly. He took a deep breath and sighed, but didn't stop looking over her left shoulder. 

"I came here to tell you to leave me alone," he said. 

"Frank… I need to talk to you," she murmured, and tensed her body, leaning away from him and clutching her purse close to her chest. She felt her heart sinking when he started to turn away – not hearing her… not understanding the urgency of her needing for him to listen. "Frank please… just two minutes… I need you to hear what I have to say." 

He kept on walking. She couldn't persuade him to stop if he didn't listen, if he didn't stop walking and turn back to face him. More tears blurred in her eyes as her fingers closed around the grip of the gun they'd given her. In desperation she tried one last time. 

"Please don't walk away from this… don't walk away from me!" 

He still didn't stop walking toward the door. This was about more than just him and her. But she still felt the same as she always had… the love that almost two and a half years together had kindled, and left burning still after that long time apart… she didn't want to kill him… wasn't even sure she could if she wanted to. But now, he left her no choice, she had to. 

She pulled the gun from her purse and let the empty vessel fall to the floor of the bar as she fought with the hammer of the gun to pull it back. 

At the sound of the soft click he stopped and the tear she'd been holding back rolled down her cheek. The bar erupted into noise and people started running aimlessly, like ants when their nest is disturbed. Her eyes widened in shock that one simple action could have galvanised so many into frantic self preservation. The sound of it hurt her ears – assaulted what sense she had left and made her want to run for the silence, but Frank… 

He turned back to face her. A tower of calm strength in the sea of panic, and two others, a man and a woman appeared at either side of him. They also had guns and were pointing them her way. Her insides knotted sharply and she thought she might be sick, but Frank… 

"Saran, it's okay," his voice, so warm now – so quiet and tender against the discordant cacophony behind him. "I'm sorry, okay we can talk." 

"Tell," she stammered, "T-tell them to put the guns away." 

Somehow she knew the others were his subordinates. The gun shook and wavered in her hand, so she tightened her grip and made sure it was still pointing in his direction. But it was so heavy that after a moment it started to sink lower. 

"Nobody needs the guns," he soothed and started to come back toward her. She knew that if he reached her it would all be over and part of her wanted that. She wanted him to walk up and take the gun from her. Or talk her down… that was his job after all, wasn't it? Moaning softly she raised the gun again to point it at his chest, holding it now in both hands. He stopped, and opened his arms out one to either side. Part of her wanted to be rescued… but at what cost…? 

"Tell them…" Her voice was barely a squeak. How could he hear her in all this discord? "And shut these people up! I can't think… I can't…" 

She saw him nod, and half turn his head toward the woman, though his eyes never left hers. 

"Alex, secure this area. Call it in…" 

"Wait!" she snapped. What did he mean – was he calling for backup? Were they going to send in more people, with more guns to stop her… to endanger… "What do you mean?" 

"I'm assuming the last thing you want is this place crawling with cops," he answered, "Do it, Alex. Jake…" 

He waved his arm toward the ground. The man whose gun was still pointing at her lowered his weapon as the woman moved to start taking the people outside. Soon it started to grow quieter and quieter, but her arms were getting so tired, and she still didn't know how she was managing to get the sobs she felt – that she was crying inside – to stay inside. 

"They're always heavier than you think they're going to be," Frank continued softly once it had grown quieter. He nodding toward the weapon she held. "Why don't you give me the gun and we can sit down and talk, hmm?" 

She nearly softened, almost swooned but pushed aside the rising warmth and feeling. He wasn't going to listen to her… when she tried to call him he hadn't… he… 

"I… I tried your cell phone," she said. "It was disconnected." 

"I've moved on, Saran," he stepped toward her slowly. She knew she should have pulled the trigger right then, but she didn't want to. She wanted to hear what he had to say. She wanted to hear about him, about his day, like when he would creep into her house at night and wrap himself around her in bed to warm her when she was cold… his fingers scraping along her… she moaned again, and gritted her teeth. "I have a new job now – a new apartment." 

He took another step, then another; coming closer… slowly… perhaps he did want to talk after all… perhaps he would listen. 

"T –there… I could never get through at work. I… I don't know where to start," she said, her arms trembling to keep the gun in place. 

"Why don't you start by giving me the gun?" he suggested softly. 

Yes… give him the gun and then they could talk… she could make him see that it solved nothing, him forcing the truth out into the open… that it only hurt people… hurt her, and him and… 

"Why," she implored, "Why couldn't you just leave it alone?" 

"What Saran?" He took another careful step toward her. He was almost right in front of her. His nearness startled her and she flinched. He stopped moving, even appeared to stop breathing until he said, "I can't help you unless you tell me what's going on." 

He wanted to help her. He did want to listen; everything was going to be all right after all. The relief made her hurt inside – all through her body hurt. She finally let out the sob that had been gathering under her breath as a low pitched whine and shook as the tears started to flow over her face. 

The man behind Frank started to raise his gun as hers twitched in her hand when her body shook, but Frank threw his arm out to the side and told him, "Stow it, Agent Shaw." Then he started to reach up toward her. 

"I'm scared Frank," she sobbed. 

"I know, baby," he whispered, and she sobbed harder as she heard him call her that again after the way he had spoken to her earlier. "I know. Give me the gun." 

He reached forward, closing his hands around the side of the gun, supporting the weight of it a little and relieving her tired and tense muscles. 

"That's it…" he murmured. 

"Put it down!" the woman's voice, yelling, startled her, but not as much as the sound of a shotgun behind her being primed. She felt a flush of confusion rise from her belly to begin to strangle her, to wrap confusion around her already tired mind. Then the woman pulled a gun too, and Saran screamed, and jumped in fear, pulling her finger against the trigger. 

The sound of it was like nothing she could have imagined. She felt as though her head was splitting in two and her arms jerked in her sockets as though they were being ripped out. She recoiled in panic and the sound came again, then something warm and wet sprayed across the front of her, across her hands and splashed on her face, and movement in front of her showed her the nightmare that was Frank, staggering backwards as though she had pushed him. 

A flash from the side was accompanied by searing pain in her shoulder that wiped out even the sound. The pain unlocked her fingers from around the gun and she realised she was sailing backward, toward the bar. When she connected, everything went dark.   
  
  



	2. Act 2

If… In the End – Act 2

  
  
  


_It went down as one of those moments that you remember for the rest of your life. I'd heard of people weeping after making love, but never before done it until that first time Frank and I consummated our relationship._

_He just held me, running those beautiful fingers of his through my hair as I bathed his shoulder and his chest with my tears, holding me as close as he could. When I started to calm a little he moved enough so that he could kiss me – it must have been a very salty kiss, and smiling gently he said softly,_

_"Was I really that bad?"_

_It took me a second to realise that he was kidding… making light of a situation that was as serious for him as it was for me and it allowed us to share laughter for a while. Laughter after tears of passion…_

_Even though he'd made no move to let me go as he started to move a little more I whispered, "Stay…"_

_"For as long as you want me, baby," he said, capturing the side of my chin to bring my lips upward to meet his waiting kiss, and that was how we began really. We slept wrapped up in each others arms, and in the morning he drove me to the doctor's office to get my head checked out and made me promise to call him to let him know that everything was okay._

_Was everything okay?_

_Well the head was all right, he even complimented Frank in absentia for the job he'd done on the cut. He'd been my doctor for years, since before I married Alan and he'd seen me through… all sorts of things… and while he was happy that I had someone in my life again, he asked the inevitable question, and I left his office with a prescription for birth control pills._

_I still laugh now when I think about it, because when I called Frank to tell him that my head was fine and I wasn't going to drop dead from concussion or anything, he told me he had to go out of state on a case… and he would see me when he got back._

_It was the way the first six months of our relationship went. We spent as much time apart and on the phone as we did together._   
  
  


**NORTHWEST MEMORIAL HOSPITAL: 11.45pm Tuesday**   


The emergency medical team was waiting outside to receive the ambulance as it arrived. She jumped out of the way as they pulled the stretcher out of the back of the van, the wheels concertinaing out to support the trolley and locked into place to allow the ER technician to take over the chest compressions that the paramedic had started as they were two minutes outside of the hospital. 

"What have we got?" The doctor snapped off the question at the paramedic who squeezed the bag to force another breath of air into Frank's ruined chest. 

"Federal agent took two in the chest point blank. Frank Donovan," Alex phased out the voice as he continued with particulars of Frank's age and what personal details she'd been able to give him. She was still staring horrified at her boss and running along beside the trolley as though her presence could give him even the slightest anchor to life that seemed to be slipping away from him. "We've been pushing fluids through him like there's no tomorrow, but…" 

"Okay, got it. We'll take it from here," the doctor dismissed the paramedic as the hospital team took over completely. 

As they reached a set of double doors someone caught her around the waist. She struggled – didn't want to leave his side. 

"You can't go through there…" 

"No, let me go," she struggled. "I have to be there. He…" 

"The best thing you can do for him is to keep out of their way." The admitting nurse pulled her back from the door. "He's in good hands." 

Alex finally stopped struggling and leaned against the glass. It was cool against her forehead as she looked in on the frantic activity within, the sound carrying to her already tortured ears… the long, steady, single high pitched tone and the low urgent voice. 

"Try again at three sixty." 

"Charging." 

"Stand clear… oxygen away." 

She jumped as Frank's body jolted on the table, and turning her back on the apparent hopelessness, slid down the wall, sobbing – her head finding her hands – her heart in an altogether different place and time that hadn't even got as far as the Emergency Room. 

** 

**UC CRIB: 12.05am Wednesday**   


"Cody will you stop pacing and sit down," Monica looked up from the print out of the mails that had been sent and that Frank had slapped against her chest before he stormed out. "If he finds them, he finds them." 

"So why aren't any of them answering their phones? Not even Donovan?" he answered. 

"How in the hell would I know," she snapped, irritated and in truth as worried as she knew Cody was. "Maybe he's so pissed he doesn't want to talk to us right now." 

"It's more than that it…" 

"You know I've been thinking…" she said. She got up and walked over to the bank of computers. 

"What?" 

"Where's that file on Farlain," she asked. 

"Still encrypted," he folded his arms. "Unless you've suddenly developed psychic powers and can tell me the password then… 

"Seven three nine T.A." she said softly. 

"What?" he said for the second time. 

"When he realigned the satellite on our first case together the authorisation code he gave then was seven three nine, tango alpha," she explained. "If it was him that encrypted this file then… worth a try don't you think?" 

She shrugged and pulled out his chair for him to sit down. He paused and then as she raised her eyebrows at him, he slowly took the seat and when prompted for the password he typed in the alphanumeric combination. 

The computer bleeped once in acknowledgement and then seconds later the screen cleared to show a picture of Saran Ceria Wilts née Farlain and a page of text that he and Monica – leaning over his shoulder – read with increasing concern. 

"Jesus, when Jake said it was personal, he wasn't kidding was he?" she said, leaning back in the chair she'd pulled up as they read the file. 

"Nor about the danger," Cody swallowed hard. "What the hell do we do? You gotta go find Jake and Alex, or stop Frank or…" 

She thought for a moment. "Cody, pull up a search on every case Frank worked that's not classified… everything. And see if you can find anything on Max Donovan… and," she sighed. 

"What the hell are you doing?" Cody looked round at her as she got up and started to pace the floor with the printout of the email in her hands. 

_"Don't…," he raised his hand and pointed at her. "Don't try and psychoanalyse me."_

"I'm doing exactly what he told me to do," she answered. "I think it's going to be the only way to crack this case." 

"Eh?" 

"I'm going to profile Donovan, give him a taste of his own medicine." She turned round to face him. "And then give him the means to crack this." 

"He told you _not_ to do that," Cody answered, but none the less started to type frantically at the keyboard, and the printer sprang to life. 

"Yeah well…" she said dropping a hand onto his shoulder. "Be right back. In the meantime, see if you can raise either Jake or Alex." 

"What about Donovan?" 

"Forget Donovan," she called back from the doorway. 

Several hours, and far too much caffeine later, the ringing of the telephone interrupted her frantic scribbling. 

"Monica," she answered. Then, "Jake… where the hell are you?" 

** 

**NORTHWEST MEMORIAL HOSPITAL: 4.30am Wednesday**   


"Northwest Memorial… no, no… Monica, listen. She shot Frank," Jake said, his voice falling. Then he paused as he listened to Monica's response, shocked as he would have expected. "He's still in the Operating Theatre. It's not good." 

"Is he going to make it?" her voice in his ear was little comfort, and he couldn't answer. "Jake?" 

"I think I need you down here, Monica. Alex is coming apart," he answered. He knew she'd understand that without him having the need to actually voice the very real fear that Frank had finally ran out of luck. 

"Go hold her together Jake," she answered and he could tell by her voice that she had understood. "I'm on my way – and we need to talk. Until then, nobody talks to anyone, nobody – you understand?"   
  


_I felt young all over again… there was no other way to describe the way Frank made me feel. It was silly really – and I didn't realise just how much in love with him I was until about a year after that first night together._

_I woke up and thought at first that it was morning and my alarm was ringing, but then I opened my eyes and it was still dark – then looked at the clock and saw it was three twenty in the morning – I realised it was the doorbell._

_I threw on a robe and made my way down the stairs, squinting at the bright lights that I turned on as I went to the door._

_He was leaning on the arm that pressed the bell push, head down and everything about his body language screamed of the pain he was in… I don't mean physical pain._

_"Frank…" I took his hand off the bell push._

_"Saran, I'm sorry it's late… early…"_

_"It's all right," I started to draw him inside and then noticed the blood on his shirt. Don't know how I missed it actually; given there was so much of it. "God, baby… you're hurt you…"_

_"Not mine," he let out a shuddering sigh, and then winced as I put my arm around him and ran my hand over his shoulder. "Maybe a little."_

_Everything knotted inside as if someone had just told me that I would never see him again when I had it brought home in that way that my protector, my lover and my friend was not the invincible man I believed him to be. I pushed him down onto the couch and started quickly unbuttoning his shirt. My hands shook._

_He sat mute… almost – I don't know… I began to think that maybe he was in shock or something as I peeled the shirt off the gash, graze… whatever it was that ran across the top of his shoulder and he didn't even move._

_He was sitting almost exactly the same way when I got back with the antiseptic and gauze and tape, except that he'd let his head fall back onto the back of the couch. It worried me. I'd never seen him like this before. I'd seen him angry – though never at me. I'd seen him firm, business like, happy, passionate… but never this… never despondent and lost as he appeared to be then._

_I needed to know that he was still there with me, so sat astride his lap with the supplies on the couch beside us. His left arm came around my waist to hold me to him and a small bundle of relief followed in the wake of the touch. It seemed as if I were somehow bringing him back from the brink of some personal abyss._

_He moaned slightly as I pressed the antiseptic soaked cotton against his injury to clean it up. It was not as deep as I thought at first, but still nasty enough. It didn't take long to get it covered, and to clean up the front of his chest._

_"Too damned slow," he murmured just as I was going to get up to toss the used cotton into the trash. Instead I just put it down on the couch and tenderly cupped both sides of his face._

_I guessed he was talking about whatever case he'd just come from. It was the first time he'd ever done that… even to the point of changing the subject wherever I'd ask him about his work._

_"Team argued and I ended up without backup," he whispered as my fingers stroked through his hair. He fell silent for a while, his eyes closed, breathing slowly, but the most unsteadily I'd ever seen. His brow creased in a deep frown as he squeezed his eyes more tightly closed. There was a breathy whine in his voice when he next spoke. "Seventeen… I could have got her out… if they'd just…"_

_"It was NOT your fault," I leaned forward and kissed the frown._

_"She had her whole life to live, Saran, she…" he broke off with what could have been a sob then whispered, "Too… damned… slow."_

_There was nothing I could do, just wrapped my arms around him, holding him tightly, whispering soothing nonsense. I couldn't pretend to understand it all, not then, but I wanted to support him, to be there for him when he needed me._

_"You need to let me in Frank," I breathed against his lips as I kissed him. "I understand you want to protect me from the reality of what you do, but you need someone too… and if this is going to work you have to let me in."_

_"I know… and I'm sorry," he opened his eyes and I was shocked to find them full of unshed tears. "Sorry to have kept you so far away…"_

_"I understand, baby," I kissed him and he moaned softly. "But enough is enough. It's time now…"_

_"Help me Saran," he leaned his forehead against mine. "I can't…"_

_"When did you last sleep?" I asked astutely._

_"Monday," he said, starting to shake slightly. I shook my head. It was now Thursday morning._

_I took his hand and without a further word led him upstairs to bed. Like a trusting child he let me undress him, tuck him under the covers, and joining him, wrap myself around him like the comforting blanket he always was for me…_

** 

**NORTHWEST MEMORIAL HOSPITAL: 6.45am Wednesday**   


Alex paced across the floor of the waiting room glancing at Monica and Jake as the three of them – together now that Jake and Monica had come back from checking on the woman – waited for the doctor to come out of theatre and tell them how Frank was doing. 

As soon as they had got him stabilised in the ER they'd taken him into theatre. The doctor said it was the only chance he'd got. He'd been there ever since, and even when Monica had arrived and pestered them until they let her in to see what was going on, there had been no clear news as to how it was going. They'd said it was a miracle he'd made it as far as the ER. 

"Alex, come and sit down," Monica's hand descended on her shoulder and made her jump. 

"Where's Jake?" Alex looked up from the floor and noticed that she'd lost track of time and that he'd gone. 

"He went to the bathroom." Monica answered. "He'll be back, but you know… you should probably get some rest. You've been here all night." 

"So have you," she snapped. She knew what Monica was up to. Trying to shield her from any more stress – thought she was identifying too much with what was going on; with that had happened to Keller – well so what if she was? When had she had the chance to grieve for him? 

"Yes, but I wasn't there when it happened," Monica agreed, putting an arm around her shoulders. "And I didn't watch them pull him out of an ambulance doing CPR." 

Alex shuddered, and suddenly sat down as Jake came back. He sat down beside her and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. 

"What?" she asked. He shook his head. 

"Nothing," he said and then looked past her to Monica. "I called Cody. He's still working on the files. The code you figured out didn't work on Frank's file." 

"Code?" Alex queried. 

"We managed to figure out the password to the file on the woman." Monica answered. "She was Frank's girl for about two and a half years before they split up." 

"What, so she shot him for walking out on her?" she asked sarcastically. "Is that it?" 

_"She_ left _him_." Monica answered softly. "And I really think you need to go and get that rest, Alex. You're not thinking straight." 

"Damn it, I'm not a child!" she shouted, watching the way that Jake and Monica exchanged glances. "And I know there's more to it that that! Someone _used_ her to get to Frank" 

"And we need to find out who that someone was." Monica confirmed as the door opened. 

Alex came to her feet in an instant and turned to face the green clad surgeon that walked into the room and closed the door softly behind him. He took in a long slow breath as he turned to face the three of them, and his face was set into exactly the expression she didn't want to see. His eyes moved first over Monica's face, then Jake's, before passing over hers to settle on the tiled floor. 

"No," she said firmly, her word, her tone telling the doctor that he was not to tell her what she knew he'd come to say. 

"I'm sorry, agents," he said it anyway and shook his head. "It really would have been nothing short of a miracle if we'd been able to save him." 

"When?" Jake staggered slight and his voice was husky. 

"We called it twenty minutes ago. The ME just released the body." He paused, "Under the circumstances, there was no question about the cause of death. There was simply too much damage to his chest and he'd lost too much blood." 

"Thank you, doctor," Monica said quietly. 

Alex stood shaking… as though she'd tensed every muscle in her body against what the doctor was saying. As he left she found it in her somewhere to turn, and then saw nothing but a flash of rage as she flew at Jake – hitting him full force in the centre of his body even as he tried to catch her. 

"You!" she yelled at him. "You said he'd be okay. You said he was too bloody minded to die… you….!" 

"Alex!" he shook her but she pulled away from him. "We'll work this out." 

"Yeah?" she walked away, still shaking, still using her anger to mask the hopeless loss she felt. "How? You going to bring him back?" 

"We'll _solve_ this," he said. 

"Oh grow up, Jake," she started for the door. She had to get out of there. She couldn't let them see her like this. "There's too much we don't know here to get anywhere and no one with any answers… and we go around playing kids games in a world full of big guns and more people get hurt. People get killed." 

"Don't you think Frank would want…?" 

"Frank's dead." She turned on him. "He got killed because we didn't tell him what we were up to… because we didn't behave like a team. You know… he was right about you!" 

She snatched open the door and started out before she could say anything else, and vaguely registered Monica placing a restraining hand on Jake's arm.   
  
  


_I gave him a key… he brought around a few of his things. It wasn't exactly moving in together, and it wasn't exactly living apart. Like everything else in our relationship it was somewhere in between._

_But somewhere in between also involved him being a lot more open with me about his work – about the stresses he faced – and about me helping him deal with those stresses. It brought us a whole lot closer together and that was fine with me._

_There would be times I would go to bed alone and wake up in his arms… and times when he woke me coming in. Coming home… as he would always insist. It was a big step for him to let me in like that… I understood that._

_Fingers sliding deliciously slowly along my arm woke me before I felt the kiss that settled in the crook of my neck._

_"Sorry," he whispered. "You were dreaming. I just wanted to hold you."_

_"What's wrong?" I asked, turning to slide my hands under his arms and wrap him in my arms and legs._

_"I've been neglecting you," he said, pressing his lips against my forehead. "Taking you for granted."_

_"No," I assured him. "You've never been anything other than wonderful for me. Frank, what brought this on?"_

_He sighed and tightened his arms around me. My head was pressed against his neck and I couldn't resist opening my lips to kiss the warmth of the life blood flowing through him. He moaned slightly and I felt him begin to stir to life where he was pressed against my stomach._

_But then, "Please, wait…" he murmured. "I went to see my brother's wife today."_

_I looked up at him, surprised. We'd been together almost two years and he'd never mentioned that he had a brother – let alone that his brother was married. Then my mind came back to the way he'd said it… not that he went to see his brother AND his wife, just his brother's wife. I shivered._

_"She okay?" I asked._

_I felt him nod. "She and Mark are doing fine… considering."_

_Another intuitive leap – I somehow knew that Mark was not his brother's name, but the name of Frank's nephew._

_"That's good," I said, and ran my fingers tenderly across his shoulders._

_"She made me realise," he said. "Just how important this time together really is… and how fragile…"_

_"Frank, don't!" I felt tears prickling in my eyes. He was talking about him not being around any more… about something happening to him… I didn't want to hear that._

_"I'm sorry, baby," he cupped my face in his hand and brought my eyes up to meet with his in the dim light coming through the blinds. "But you have to realise that too. Max – my brother – he was killed in the line of duty. It…"_

_"No," I pulled away from him and sat up, I refused to hear this. I reached out to turn on the light in the bedroom as the tears I'd been fighting to hold inside spilled over my cheeks. "You're careful… you…"_

_"Yes," he sat up too, and from behind wrapped me in his arms. "I'm careful. So was Max… but the job I do, Saran, it's always a matter of life and death. I'm not saying this to hurt you…"_

_"Then why?" I turned and pressed myself against him again, trembling._

_"Because there's something I want to ask you, and I need you to be able to answer understanding everything that might happen." He ran his fingers down my cheek. "Because I love you Saran."_

_I breathed his name, and moved to straddle him. He held lightly to the sides of my hips as I wound my arms around his shoulders, leaning against him as he moved his fingers up the length of my spine until he could ease my head away from his shoulders to catch the falling tears with the tip of his tongue._

_My own fingers traced the shape of his neck and shoulders as though it were the first time we were seeing each other… our first time together. He supported me as his kisses descended from my face, over my neck and onto the front of my body, over the curves of my breasts._

_Slow, soft and sensual kisses, open mouthed, his tongue brushing against my flesh with each press of his lips. My head fell back and I gasped as he found my nipple with his mouth and loved it with his tongue. He moaned against the tenderness there as I pressed up against him where I straddled him, where he was already hard and moments later leaned back against the headboard, drawing me with him._

_I lifted myself on trembling thighs as we moved and slowly lowered myself onto his hot, hard flesh, meeting his eyes, which he then lowered to watch as I took him inside me. He growled my name softly, and gathered me against him, holding us together, joined as one, then curled his hands around my straddling thighs, to help me as I moved against him._

_"I love you too," I confessed as I started trembling with the gathering sensations. It somehow made our passions all the more intense and important._

_He circled his arms around me and turned so that I was beneath him, taking control, oh so gently, turning the tide of our love so that it would return to wash over us – empowering us and wiping away any lingering doubts we might have had. There wasn't a millimetre of space between us, not even as we moved; not even as he glided in and out of the warmth of my body, creating that delicious friction to wind the coming dawn around us both._

_"Marry me," he whispered, slowing his movements until he was barely moving inside me at all._

_"Frank," I sobbed under him, the movement pressing us together and drawing a light moan from both of us as it stirred those gathered feeling within us._

_"Is that yes or no?" he breathed against my shoulder, and started to slide slowly from my tightened, trembling hollow._

_"Yes."_

_We moved together again, slowly – I was the rise to his fall, my hips lifting to meet his descent – a perfect harmony. Our voices mingled, our bodies joined and pressed close together the sun rose with us, shattering the dark that had been between us. Everything was suddenly so bright and clear as we shared another harmony together._

_And when we woke, mid morning, amid tears he told me everything that had happened with Max, and the facts surrounding the death of his brother, including the details of the digging he'd been doing – unauthorised. Then he asked me again. My answer was still the same._   
  
  


**MONICA DAVIS' CAR: 7.15am Wednesday**   


"It's a good cover, Jake," she argued with him as she drove. "Frank and I worked on it for a long time." 

"Yeah, but do we really want to follow up on this," he said. "Why not just let it drop? This case has taken out more people that I want to count – including Donovan." 

"And that's why we _have_ to do this," she said. "We owe him that much." 

They both fell silent for a long time. He ran the details of everything she'd told him through his mind. It wasn't the danger that bothered him – he'd been in equally dangerous situations before – even put _himself_ in more danger when refusing to follow orders, but… 

"What about Alex?" he asked softly, still feeling the bruises where she'd launched at him in the hospital and seeing the way her face had crumpled when the doctor confirmed what he knew in his heart he'd expected from the moment the woman had pulled the trigger in the bar. 

"She's lost it Jake," Monica answered. "And not before time. She's been walking the wire since Keller died." 

"So what, you want to push her that one step further?" he snapped, angry even though he understood Monica's reasoning for the way she said the case had to be played. 

"If she was on an emotionally even keel I'd have no problem letting her in on this, you know that," she answered. "But if knew and she blew it, Jake, she'd blow your cover, and if your cover is blown, you're dead… no ifs, buts and maybes – just dead." 

He shuddered as she continued speaking and pulled the car into the precinct parking lot. 

"Donovan was right when he said this probably goes higher than is comfortable. We don't know who we can trust on this… except the three of us." 

He heard her sigh, and frowned. 

"Four," he corrected. "Alex…" 

"Is out of this, as of now," Monica interrupted. "When we're done here, I'm going to Bloom and have her placed on administrative leave." 

"You'd do that?" he demanded, shocked. 

"To keep her safe," Monica answered. "Yeah. No question. She might hate me for it now, but when she's got her head straight and all this is over, she'll understand." 

She stopped the car and sat holding the steering wheel for a long time with knuckles that, he noticed, were a paler shade of brown. 

"You hope," he said softly. 

"Jake, if you can't do this, then we might as well go home now," she said with a sigh. "Let the Chicago PD process Farlain; get the hell out and go back to some nice safe little case, like taking down Sonny… knowing that there's some guy out there with the power to bury people as well as cases with absolute impunity." 

He took a deep breath… he'd be dead: literally. Out on a limb – alone in a way he'd not been for a long time, watched, but not in contact. It was the kind of danger that cracked even the best of agents… a deep cover case and no telling how long it would last. He turned to find Monica looking at him, studying him carefully. 

"Let's do this," he said firmly.   
  
  


_Ever experience the moment when your worst fears are realised?_

_I was just walking from where I parked my car toward the pharmacy to get my prescription filled when my cell phone went off. I smiled when I saw Frank's number on the display._

_"Hey Frank, what's up?"_

_A pause, and then an unfamiliar voice asked, "Saran Farlain?"_

_"Yes?" My entire stomach had knotted and I stopped walking in the middle of the parking lot. I could feel more than a few eyes looking my way but it didn't matter – I just knew one thing… someone else was using Frank's cell phone to call me, and that had to be bad news… really bad news._

_"My name's Thomas Callaghan," he said. "I work for Frank."_

_"Where is he?" I snapped in panic. "What's happened?"_

_"Please don't panic, Ms Farlain. We know where you are, and we've sent a dispatch out to bring you here…" as he said the words I heard the siren coming closer and the dark blue car with the magnetically mounted light on the roof._

_"They're here," I breathed, as two suited men got out of the car, flashing FBI identification in my direction and ushering me toward the vehicle. One of them even took the phone from my unresisting hand._

_The drive to the hospital was quick and made for the most part in frustrated and terrified silence. The agents didn't know or wouldn't say what was going on… just that Agent Callaghan would answer all of my questions once we got there. I felt sick. I wanted to cry but the tears wouldn't come._

_They took me up in a lift to the Critical Care Unit, where a man peeled himself off the wall._

_"Ms Farlain?" I nodded; feeling very small, sandwiched between the two agents as I was, and faced with a third. He smiled softly – in sympathy. "Hi, I'm sorry we're not meeting under better circumstances."_

_"Please, just tell me what happened. Is he…?"_

_"He was shot, Saran," Thomas put a hand onto my shoulder and dismissed the other agents with a nod. The words went echoing around my head until just the one word 'shot' was all I could hear._

_The strength drained from my legs and I found myself making a grab for the man in front of me, who supported me to a nearby seat, calling for a nurse that was just coming along the corridor. The sounds and smells of the hospital faded out briefly, before coming back in full force… the scent of the disinfectant grabbing the ends of the knot in my belly and pulling until it had tightened so much there was no way I was going to avoid giving in to the nausea that was biting at my ears._

_Somehow, there was already a bowl in front of my head, and the soft voice of a nurse at my side, whispering comfort, and handing me first a tissue, and then a beaker of water to swill my mouth. Thomas was on the other side from me, holding my trembling hand. I guess he was used to seeing this kind of reaction._

_"How?" I breathed, thanking the CCU nurse with a feeble smile. "Wasn't he wearing a vest or something?"_

_"He had a vest on," he answered, "But he gave it to the hostage to get him out. The boy's fine, thanks to Frank."_

_I sighed… just like Frank. Thinking of others before himself and taking stupid risks to get a result._

_"How… how is he?" I was terrified of the answer._

_"He came through surgery pretty well." Thomas stood up. "Let me show you through to him."_

_He led me down the corridor to a side room outside of which a uniformed officer sat in a plastic chair looking bored. He nodded and I opened the door, taking a deep breath before I went inside._

_His eyes were closed and he looked pale, almost shrouded under the blue sheet that covered the lower half of his body, from beneath which, I could see the top half of a dressing on his side, to match one on the front of his shoulder. An IV line disappeared into the back of his left hand and another tube, feeding oxygen to him was taped against his cheek and ran beneath his nose. Beside the bed a heart monitor kept a reassuringly regular rhythm._

_"Oh God," I whispered, shaking more with each step that took me closer to him._

_"Don't let all this lot bother you," A nurse I hadn't noticed before came from the side of the darkened room toward the bed by all the medical equipment. "It's all perfectly normal after an operation like he just had. Let me get you a chair so that you can sit down."_

_"Thank you," I murmured, not daring to take my eyes off Frank._

_"You must be Saran," she said as she brought the chair across the room to me and as I looked at her confused she explained, "He's been drifting in and out of consciousness."_

_"Oh," I sat down and reached almost nervously for Frank's hand, and to run my fingers through his hair. I could feel the tears that flowed again to wet my face but there was nothing I could do to stop them. I leaned down to plant the most careful of kisses on his arm; it was the only place I could easily reach without fear of hurting him, and leaned my head against the bed beside him._

_"S-ar-an," The hoarse whisper startled me. My head jerked up to find him looking at me. He was clearly very heavily sedated – I could tell from his eyes._

_"I'm here, my love," I reached up to caress his cheek and his fingers curled around mine a little more firmly._

_"Did we get him out?" he whispered, equally hoarsely. I couldn't help but smile._

_"The boy's fine," I leaned over him, to look down into his eyes._

_"Are you okay?" he asked then. I leaned down to give him the lightest of kisses._

_"I am now," I answered._   
  
  


**CHICAGO PD: 8.05am Wednesday**   


"You have another signal in there with you Mon," Cody's voice came from inside her ear. "Either you're psychic or…" 

She nodded, letting him know she'd heard him and phased out the rest of his making light of the situation that was making them all feel nervous. She turned her attention to the woman whom she'd only seen previously in photographs. 

Slight, small very pale, but that could be the aftermath of her having been shot by Jake, except for the dark circles under her eyes and her already tearstained face. She felt a pang of sympathy go through her at what she knew had to come and watched as Jake crossed the room to her side; to her right wrist that was cuffed to the side of the bench. The other arm was strapped across her body by a sling. 

"I don't think we need these do we?" Jake asked. He nodded toward the handcuffs and setting the file he was carrying on the table began to unfasten them. 

"No," she said softly. Her voice barely disturbed the silence of the room. She sat very still while he removed the cuff from her wrist. 

Jake sat back looking down at the woman who had fixed her gaze firmly against the far wall… trying to hold herself together, Monica surmised. 

"Please may I have a glass of water?" the woman asked. She sounded terrified. 

"Sure," Jake answered, and went to the side of the room to pour a beaker of water which he set in front of her. 

"Thank you," she said, and reached out to take hold of the beaker and take a few sips of the water. 

"I'm Agent Jake Shaw, this is Agent Monica Davis," he continued softly. "And you are?" 

"Saran Ceria Farlain," she answered, pushing her hand through her hair and licking her lips. She looked up at Monica then. Monica crossed from where she was standing, and took a seat at the opposite side of the table. 

"Really?" she said. 

Jake drew the woman's attention away from her again. Monica was glad of that, she was starting to find if difficult to harden her heart against the delicate looking woman before her. Jake pulled up another chair, sitting on it backwards close by to Saran… really hamming up the role she'd asked him to play. He reached for the file and opening it, took out a piece of paper. Calmly he placed it onto the table in front of her. 

Monica sighed and looked down at the centre of the piece of paper as Saran's eyes filled with tears. After a few moments the paper moved as the woman pushed it away. Monica looked up to see the tear that rolled down Saran's cheek. 

"We never got the chance…" she whispered. 

"Would it have made a difference if you had?" Monica said harshly and from a bag she carried she pulled out the gun, plastic wrapped in an evidence bag which she placed on top of the long expired marriage licence. Saran squeezed her eyes closed tightly and turned her head away. 

"Saran," Jake called to her gentle. Monica held her breath. This was the moment that would make or break the case… the reaction of an outside party to a terrible piece of news. "He died at six twenty this morning." 

It was like watching something decay in stop motion photography. Saran blinked up at Jake, straight into his eyes and frowned as if she didn't understand what he was saying, then understanding dawned, slowly and those sky blue eyes filled with more tears. She folded her uninjured arm across her belly as if she felt pain there, and suddenly the breath she was taking inward became a moan, then a whine as she voiced her disbelief. 

"No," the word was long and drawn out, voiced in her throat as a gravely elongated sob. Monica pressed her leg against the corner of the chair, not at all comforted by the fact that she had been right. 

Saran folded over, and would have pressed her head against the table except that Jake, playing into his roll caught her and guided her head down onto his waiting shoulder as she lost her fight with the terrible emotions that appeared to be destroying her from the inside out. 

"We know," Jake said softly into Saran's hair as Monica started to get up… leaving the bag that had held the gun, and also held the listening device on the table. She crossed the room and opened the door to leave, hearing Jake continue. "We know that there's someone that forced you to do this… give us the person truly responsible for Frank's death and we'll do everything we can for you."   
  
  


_"You're sure about this?" he asked quietly as he pulled the car into a parking space out front of the building._

_"Frank," I laughed and put my hand over the top of his on the steering wheel. "I'm sure. You're the one that seems nervous."_

_He shook his head and smiled. "I just don't want you to feel like I'm putting pressure on you."_

_"You're not," I said. "If I didn't want to be your wife I would have told you when you first asked me."_

_"Really?" he raised a cheeky eyebrow in my direction, but turned in his seat to take my hand in his. "When I FIRST asked?"_

_I blushed and quietly said, "Yes, even then."_

_He chuckled, and kissed my fingers. "Okay then my love. Come on."_

_He was adorable, even if he wouldn't admit that he was nervous. He held my hand the whole time we were in there, filling out the papers, answering questions, all the silly, official things you have to do, but eventually we emerged with the licence. It was a good job really, because the judge was booked for the Friday, so that we had the long weekend to take away as our honeymoon. All we had to do was get through the rest of the day, Wednesday and Thursday and we'd be starting our lives as Mr and Mrs Frank Donovan. That thought found expression in the first thing I said to him as we got back into the car._

_"Don't you dare get called away to a case in the next couple of days."_

_He turned a frown my way, then leaned over and gave me a light kiss when he saw from the smile on my face that I was teasing him._

_"One of these days I'm going to learn to tell when you're serious," he said._

_"Then you'll be dangerous," I teased, running my fingers through the hair behind his ear, knowing what it would do to him. He moaned softly._

_"I have to go back to work," he breathed against the side of my face._

_"I know," I grinned as he adjusted himself to sit more comfortably and put in the key to start the car. "And I have to go and see my agent – and then out with my girlfriends."_

_I smiled sweetly into the face of his pouting frown._

_"Filthy tease," he growled._

_"You'll live." I told him, reaching over to run my hand over his thigh. "And I'll probably be late, so don't wait up."_

_If only I'd known how late… I would have made the moment we kissed our temporary and happy farewell last that much longer; would have savoured the feel of his lips on mine; would have lingered, tasting the softness of his mouth as he did mine… Probably wouldn't have let him go at all._

_And I would have told him what I had found out just a few short hours before we met to go and pick up the marriage license. In truth, I still don't know why I didn't._   
  
  


**UC CRIB: 8.45pm Wednesday**   


"What am I missing," Monica paced back and forth across the floor of the crib, making his head ache. He watched the screen, showing Jake sitting nearby the woman they had taken from the precinct that afternoon. 

She was still refusing to talk… still insisting that she'd been the one. It just didn't fit with everything that Alex and Jake had told her about what happened at the club. They said Frank had almost taken the gun… that she'd said she was scared… and that it had been the barman that had made her panic and fire the gun. 

"You know," he piped up. "You wear a hole in that floor and someone's going to be making suspenders from your guts." 

"Shut up, Cody," she snapped, and turned back to a board on which she had stuck all the information she had. 'Back to basics' she'd called it when he had suggested earlier that he could provide her with a perfectly good database to play with. "I'm missing something. Something big." 

Slowly she started shuffling those pieces of paper around, back and forth, rubbing out arrows, then drawing them back, re-reading things she'd found and making new notes to go with the ones she already had. 

"You're a complicated bastard, Frank Donovan, I'll give you that," she hissed. 

"Was," Cody corrected grimly. Monica sighed so he asked, "What are you missing?" 

"Only the big one… why she left?" 

** 

**FBI SAFE HOUSE: 10.30pm Wednesday**   


"Feeling better?" Jake asked as she came back into the room from the bathroom. 

"Not really," she answered. "I don't understand why you're keeping me here." 

"I told you," he said. "You'd be unsafe in the precinct lockup… and since we don't believe that you suddenly took it on yourself to shoot the man you were going to marry a year and a half before hand – especially not after what he did for you, we're keeping you safe until you decide to change your mind and tell us." 

"I'm not going to change my mind," she said tearfully. "And you have to let me go som…" 

"Ssshhh," he held up his hand, listening. 

"What?" he saw her wrap her arm around her stomach again, the same way she had in the police station. "What is it?" 

"I'm not sure," he said. He reached out toward her. "Come here." 

Reaching down into a bag beside the couch he took out a vest and put it on the chair while he unfastened the sling from around her shoulder. 

"This is going to hurt, but better hurt than dead, okay?" 

She nodded and let him move her arm enough to get it into the sleeve of the bullet proof vest and then fasten it. Not a moment too soon as the side of the house exploded into a spray of gunfire. 

"Cody, what's going on!" he yelled, throwing Saran to the ground and in spite of the vest, covering her with his own body. She screamed, whether in panic or in pain from her injured shoulder he wasn't sure. 

"Out Jake," Cody's calm but urgent voice sounded in his ear. "Get out now!" 

There was no time. A second later the entire room was engulfed in a mass of flame and noise… heat and light.   



	3. Act 3

If… In the End – Act 3

  
  
  
  


_How many times have we all promised ourselves that we will learn to listen to the little warning shivers that run along the length of our spine from time to time, or listen to the intuition that tells us not to do something – or to do something differently than normal. That Tuesday afternoon was one of those times._

_Frank dropped me in the city, to do a little shopping, before going to my agent and then, I thought, to meet my friends for the obligatory girl's night out before the wedding. So smiling, I dismissed the thought that a woman I'd seen in one store was also in another, where I went to buy a small gift for my new husband to be._

_Nothing too ostentatious – actually a pen, engraved with his initials. We had been joking the night before about how much he hated paperwork. I thought if I gave him something like that it might help him to get through it more quickly, more positively, because he might think of me, and the fact that I'd given him the pen._

_I even dismissed as my warped imagination the car I saw several times, with blacked out windows. It looked like a fleet car and I'd noticed that since Frank and I had been together, I was spotting these things far more anyway._

_"Morning, Miss Farlain." The security guard greeted me cheerfully as I entered the office building. It makes me cold all over to think that I must have been the last person, beside his murderer, to see him alive. "You have an appointment today, or is this just a social call?"_

_"I have a meeting, Bernard." I said as I signed in. I heard him chuckling as I walked to the elevator._

_To explain… My agent's office was on the fourteenth floor of a high rise that held two other companies. They leased the space from one of the companies I think. So I rode up in the elevator, my mind not really on the meeting at all, but thinking about Frank – sitting at his desk in his office, (this was what he'd promised me he'd be doing for the next couple of days), filling out his much hated paperwork._

_I almost called him to make sure that was exactly what he was doing. I wish to god I had, or that I'd turned around, as the thought had crossed my mind before I walked into the building, and finally gone to find the place that his team called home._   
  
  


**RESIDENCE CODY: 2.10am Monday (week 2)**   


"Just a minute!" he yelled, pulling on a T-shirt to go with his pyjama pants, and then a robe over the whole ensemble. He got to the door and peered through the spy hole. 

"Alex?" he breathed in surprise as he pulled open the door. "Alex what are you doing here? Do you know what time it is?" 

"Cody, I need your help," she murmured, her words slurring together a little. 

"Have you been drinking?" he took her arm to draw her inside the house. And then as she all but fell against him amended, "Are you drunk?" 

"Maybe a little," she confessed as she grabbed the front of his robe. When she continued her voice was a little broken. "But I'm having trouble dealing with this… First Frank, now Jake…" 

Awkwardly, he put his arm around her shoulder and led her in the direction of the kitchen. She needed coffee. He needed her to have coffee… He sat her at the kitchen table and started to make it. 

"Alex, these thing happen," he said softly when he turned to find her looking at him almost tearfully from where she'd laid her head on the table. "In our line of work." 

"But three of us inside of a year and two on one case, Cody that's like…" her eyes glazed as she tried to work out the odds. Finally giving up she concluded, "More than bad luck." 

"You'll feel better after the funeral," he said softly, setting the coffee down onto the table top and pulling out another chair to sit cradling his own cup. "This week has been hard on us – but we'll have closure then." 

"You might," she snorted. "I got a letter today." 

"Oh?" he asked, wondering if this was notification of her being placed on administrative leave. 

"I'm up before OPR for what I did to Bloom." 

He sighed. He and Monica had heard about Alex's outburst the day after the explosion at the Safe house. That she'd almost thrown his secretary through the wall when she tried to get her to leave. 

"It'll be okay, Alex," he said, watching her sip the coffee. "They'll understand. Monica…" 

"Put me on administrative leave. How is her testimony going to help?" she interrupted. 

"You need the break," he said. "You need the time, Alex. When did you get to grieve for John, hmm?" 

"I grieved," she argued. "We all did." 

"No," he argued. "We dealt… we did not _grieve_." 

"What do I _do_, Cody?" she asked after a very long silence. "This is my life – I don't know anything else." 

"Then you hang in there," he said. "And you go home and get some rest."   
  
  
  


_"Not now, Jackie, I'm in a meeting," my agent snapped into her intercom as it buzzed. I sat back in my chair and smiled. They treated me more like family here, so it was a running joke that our meetings always got interrupted._

_"I really think you need to come out here."_

_There was a tone in Jackie's voice that in all the years that I'd been coming to these offices I'd never heard before. Fear… dreadful, consuming fear. Madeleine evidently heard it too, because she got up from her chair and went toward the double doors to her office. Something made me reach for my cell._

_"Not a smart move!" A man that appeared at my side snatched it from my hands. "We'll run this thing according to OUR timescale little lady."_

_I use words for a living, but I simply don't know that the words exist to describe the absolute paralysing terror that rushes to replace ever ounce of sense you ever had when you find yourself looking down the barrel of a gun, as I did then._

_And I knew from the outset that this was something to do with me._

_"Why don't you step outside into the hallway with the others?" he continued, giving Maddy and I a far less than gentle push. "We're taking a little ride up a floor. There's more space up there, and we want you to be comfortable. It's going to be a long night."_

_Why did I tell him not to wait up? That was the first coherent thought that went through my head as we were all herded up the stairs to the corporate offices of Guilliam Markham Sales Inc. The next thought was that when law enforcement actually DID get hold of the news it was going to make no sense to them. I mean, who in their right mind holds a sales company to ransom?_

_But then this wasn't ABOUT the sales company – or anyone that worked in the building at all. This was about me… or more to the point, it was about Frank Donovan._

_Whoever it was, they were not run of the mill, opportunistic gangsters with a grudge. They were organised, well financed… If they were terrorists, then they must have been planning this, and had an agenda for a very long time._

_My worst fears were confirmed when they led me to a seat in front of a bank of screens, like security monitors and one of them said, "Why don't you take a seat, Ms Farlain… or should that be Mrs Donovan?"_

_The monitors showed my house – empty now – each room clearly shown… the bathroom, the kitchen, the lounge… and the bedroom – the sheets still rumpled from where Frank and I had celebrated the beginning of another new day together. I blushed bright scarlet._

_"Yes," the man behind me whispered into my ear as he pushed me down into the seat. "It was quite a show you put on… Frank was a very lucky man."_

_I shuddered at the way he phrased his comment._   
  
  


**ST MICHAELS CHURCH: 11.35am Monday**   


Between the two of them they had been very well respected. Monica was surprised at the number of people that had attended both the church service for Frank and Jake, and Frank's interment. They had both been given full honours as befit their station. 

She looked over at Alex. She looked dreadful – as though she'd not seen her bed in all the time since it happened. She had also been one of the few people actually crying through the service. 

Moving as casually as she could, she sidled up to Cody. 

"Did I miss anyone?" she asked, shifting the purse on her shoulder that contained the video camera. They would later view the film and run each and every face. 

"I don't think so," he answered. "Jesus, don't look now," 

She looked, and saw Paul Bloom coming toward them. He shook them both by the hand and offered the obligatory condolences for the loss their team members. Monica couldn't explain why, but it made her feel, not angry, but pity. 

"I'm giving you both a week's leave," he said on the end of those condolences. 

"With respect, _sir_," she said. "We have cases that are current. We can't _take_ that week." 

"And without a team leader and UC agents, how exactly are you going to pursue those cases?" he smiled, but the smiled didn't reach his eyes. "Take the week, agents. Next Monday I'll be introducing you to their replacements." 

Cody pulled a face and behind him, Monica poked him in the back. They both sighed, but accepted Blooms offer. 

"Are you the agents that worked with my brother-in-law?" Monica and Cody both turned to face the tall blonde woman with the boy tucked into her side. He looked to be about ten years old. "Max, Frank's brother, was my husband." 

Monica's mind whirled… she'd known Max was married… why hadn't she thought about the wife? 

"I'm sorry for you loss," she said automatically. 

"Thank you. Frank was a great comfort to me when I lost Max, and almost like a father figure to Mark." She blinked back tears and Monica clenched her jaw a little tighter. This touched and hurt so many people. "We shall miss him." 

"He was an excellent agent too," Cody said. Monica was sure that it was more for something to say, if he felt anywhere near as awkward as she did. "We'll miss working with him." 

"Thank you," she said. Then she paused and looked up into Monica's face. Monica gave her a querying look. "I don't know why I'm doing this, but I think Frank would have wanted you to have this." 

She reached inside her overcoat and brought out a small, folded piece of paper which she handed to Monica. 

"I'm sure you know, working with him as you did, that he was never a terribly sentimental man, but this poem was always a favourite of his. Perhaps you can use part of it when you have the headstone made? Excuse me." 

She turned and started to walk away. 

"Don't you _dare_ open that piece of paper," Cody hissed in a particular tone of voice that he'd used earlier in the day and she knew would be virtually undecipherable by any listening equipment.   
  
  
  


_It was a very uncomfortable night and very long. The kept me sitting in front of those monitors the whole of the time. I watched him come home, going about the evening tasks that we usually did together. I watched him shower… and blushed again as I remembered some of the things that we'd done together in there, and wondered how long these people had been watching us._

_Then I watched him getting ready for bed… and climbing in without me. He lay with his eyes open staring at the ceiling for a long time. He looked as though he was thinking, then he turned over onto his side, his arm draped over the space where I would normally have been. I couldn't help myself, I started crying at that. It was something about the way he was holding me even thought I wasn't there._

_"Please…" I whispered as one of the people came past. "Let me go home."_

_He laughed in my face._

_I thought Frank was sleeping, but when, about an hour later he turned over, returning to lie on his back I realised I was wrong. His hand reached for the nightstand, for his watch, I knew. He always kept it there, and for a moment the light from his watch face lit up his concerned face, before he switched on the lamp and reached for the telephone._

_Even though I expected it, seconds later, when my cell phone started to ring I jumped. I wanted so badly to answer it, but my hands were bound around the chair with sticky tape. The captor beside me reached out and turned a switch, and suddenly there was sound as well as vision._

_"Come on, Saran… where are you?" his voice sounded taught with worry; as well it should at two am. I'd said I would be late, but there was late and there was overdue. When I didn't answer, he hung up the phone and tossed it onto the bed, to run his fingers through his hair. At last he picked up the phone again, and I could hear the tones as clearly as if the phone was to my ear._

_"Okay, we're go!" As the first man spoke, another man came to sit on my other side, by the computer that was there and started typing frantically. "This is where we give lover boy the run around."_

_"Tom? Donovan," Frank's voice drew my attention back to the scene in my bedroom._

_"What's up, boss?" Thomas Callaghan's voice sounded as clearly as if he were also in the room with Frank. I think that was when I realised just what kind of trouble I was in. These men weren't hoodlums or terrorists with a score to settle. These guys were on the inside… they were government agents and they were playing him at his own game._

_Why couldn't he have just tried a low tech method of finding out why I wasn't home? Why didn't he just call Rebecca? She would have told him I didn't show up._   
  
  
  


**UC CRIB: 8.45am Monday (week 3)**   


"You know… why," Cody leaned back in his chair and put his feet up on the table, "do I suddenly find myself experiencing a huge rush of déjà vu?" 

Monica threw him a sour look and sat heavily on the table top. 

"What?" he asked defensively, a little hurt. "I still want to know how they find these people, do they advertise or…" 

"Yes," the voice was hard and cold. "The post was advertised internally." 

He jumped up from his seat and both he and Monica spun round to find themselves face to face with their new boss. He was about the same height as Cody, blonde hair with hazel eyes that were as lifeless as the voice that had addressed them. But what they noticed more than anything, and what chilled Cody's blood, was the fact that the man was wearing a dark blue, almost black Armani suit. 

"My name is Agent Donald Teague. You may call me, Mr Teague, Agent Teague, or Sir, but never Donald or just Teague," he said sharply. "I shall be upstairs in my office. I'd like the current case files on my desk in twenty minutes and will be informed the moment my two UC agents arrive. Is that clear?" 

Cody and Monica gaped at the arrogant little man. 

"I asked if that was clear, Agents?" he said. 

"Oh believe me, sir," Monica said after a moment or two. "We understand _you_ completely." 

** 

**RESIDENCE MONICA DAVIS: 10.45pm Wednesday**   


"And how was he?" she asked as Cody returned to her lounge, holding up two fingers and pointing carefully at both the lamp and the telephone. 

"I think "pissed" about covers it," he answered, turning on the television to MTV and cranking the volume as though he were grooving to the sounds. "But what can he do?" 

Understanding, Monica came to groove with him, even draping an arm over his shoulder. He stiffened uncomfortably for moment then draped his arms over her hips. 

"I told you you'd used too much," she said. 

He shrugged sheepishly. "The new look suits him," he grinned, then leaning forward he whispered, "You'll be pleased to know they didn't bug your bedroom. Everywhere else, but not there." 

"Guess they don't trust us to have dropped the case like we said, huh?" Monica answered, moving closer. He swallowed hard. "Well guess what, Cody…" 

"What?" he squeaked. 

"You and I just realised our undying love." Before he could voice the _now hold on a minute_ that was poised in the back of his throat, she wound her fingers into his hair and kissed him hard on the mouth. Then she pushed him down on the couch, to straddle him and begin unfastening his shirt. 

"I said the _bedroom_ wasn't bugged," he hissed in her ear as she bit softly on the side of his neck. This wasn't right. He was Tech-ops not UC… especially when they still weren't sure who they were UC against. 

"Gotta make it look convincing," she grabbed his hands and pressed them against her front. 

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" he moaned, swallowing hard at where his hands had come to rest. 

"Shut up and kiss me," she answered. 

** 

"So tell me more about Jake," she said, lying back beside him on the bed. "Was he really badly hurt?" 

"Scorched," he said. "He took the full force of the blast." 

"His new life?" 

"May be working out," he answered, rolling onto his side to look at her. "Anton Kale is getting himself quite a rep, in just the right circles. We didn't get much time to talk, the game started." 

"So what now?" she asked. 

"Hey this was your idea, boss," he squeaked. "Don't go asking _me_ that question." 

She flung her arm over her face. Starting on Cody had been a _bad_ idea. The case was frustrating the hell out of her… especially as they had to do it in their spare time in his loft. They needed something else. They needed a break – they were running out of time. 

"What about Farlain?" she asked. He shook his head and pulled a face. 

"If I were to suggest a place to start looking for the break you need to figure this one out, she's it," he said. "Tight lipped as ever and now Uncle Josh said she's getting twitchy." 

"Twitchy?" she asked. 

"Yeah, like she wants to _be_ somewhere," he answered. 

"Shit." Monica suddenly leaped off the bed and started toward her closet.   
  
  
  


_They stepped things up another notch just before dawn, calling a local radio station with a coded warning of a bomb that would be detonated downtown unless their immediate demands were met for two million US dollars in used, non consecutive twenty dollar bills. They gave the government one hour to get back to them._

_Start small they said… well it sounded like a pretty big demand to me, but then what did I know? An hour after dawn, with the government still arguing over whether the threat was real, they detonated the explosives._

_I've never been so close to anything like that before, so when the device went off two floors up from where we were being held, blowing out windows and setting alarm bells ringing through the whole complex – I like everyone else screamed until I was sick._

_Inside of ten minutes the entire neighbourhood was awash with sirens, fire trucks and helicopters._

_"Oh the drama," the woman that had been following me through the shopping malls turned my chair away from the trash bucket that was luckily right beside me and into which I had vomited. She turned me back to the screens in time to see Frank arriving back at the house, walking through, calling out for me. "You think we should call him in yet, or see how long it takes the Feds to call him anyway?"_

_"I think that if they do, you're history," I spat. I don't know where the momentary bravery came from, but she wiped it away with the back of her hand across my face._

_"How?" she asked harshly. "When we hold all the cards? When we know everything there is to know about him… and about you – even things you haven't told him yet."_

_I was so afraid that I didn't make the connections right then, it didn't register just what she'd meant, only that it confirmed that this wasn't about Money – the demands were never about money – this had something to do with Frank investigating the death of his brother and that he must have touched a nerve for them to go to these lengths to get him to call off the dogs._

_"If you let me go… and let these people go," I licked my lips, testing my theory… how foolish I was… "I'll get him to stop, to leave it alone."_

_"Leaving it alone isn't enough any more," she hissed in my ear. "He has to understand WHY he has to do that."_

_"Max was his brother," I answered. "You have to understand why he's been investigating this in the first place. He LOVED his brother."_

_"Trouble with the Donovans," she replied "They always get so sickeningly self righteous."_

_A spray of gunfire interrupted our conversation. Downstairs they'd finally sent an officer to investigate, and he'd been welcomed with automatic weapon's fire. They let him get almost back to the safety of the car before they cut him down._

_"Here we go," she said and pushed me back around to watch the monitors that were now showing my house and the view from downstairs._   
  
  
  


**NORTHWEST MEMORIAL HOSPITAL: 2.15pm Thursday**   


Choking… 

Something hard and obstructive, pressing inside his throat. He tried to take in a breath and gagged and coughed. He panicked and alarms started sounding. Seconds later, someone's warm hand pressed against his shoulder, and two more hands tilted his head back. The obstruction was gone, and he took a huge, painful gasping breath, flinging out an arm. 

"All right," a voice soothed…a woman's voice. "Gently now… it's okay." 

He started shivering, the movement hurt – he hurt all over. _Christ sake, get a grip!_

"C-cold," he breathed. 

"Okay, we'll get you a blanket," the answer came softly. "Can you tell me your name? You know where you are?" 

A slightly floral scent came closer as she leaned down to hear what he was saying as he whispered his name, and made a guess that he was in hospital. 

"Okay, can you open your eyes for me, honey?" the voice continued, he grimaced. He hated that. Always had… he fought to comply, but his eyelids were so heavy. The room spun and blurred above him as he finally managed to pry the lids open. She shone a light into his eyes and flashed it away again. 

** 

**CLUB FARGO: 8.40pm Thursday**   


Who the hell were these people? Bungling amateurs. Kale grabbed his associate's arm and shook his head. 

"Not tonight Billy boy," he said in the soft whisper he had adopted as part of his persona. _You solve rate just fell through the floor, Bloom._ He pointed to the man and woman standing in line to enter club. The woman was fingering her ear, and the man pressing his hand against a button on his jacket. 

"What you talking about, Kale?" The short haired youth spat into the gutter. 

"Feds," he answered. "Keep walking." 

As they walked past the two UC agents _yeah right_ he laughed inside, he peered at the guy's button and mouthed "What the fuck…?" Then chuckled as he knew Cody would be having an apoplectic fit in the van that would no doubt be nearby. 

"Neat button," he said aloud and then turned away before either agent could get a proper look at his face. To Billy he said, "Let's go home." 

** 

**RESIDENCE CODY – LOFT: 9.20pm Friday**

"Okay, you want me to do what?" he turned round to face where Monica was pacing up and down his loft. "I wish you wouldn't do that." 

"I think better when I'm pacing," she said. "I want you to compare the handwriting on that note, with the handwriting on this one," she pointed at the two notes, "and then run it again everything handwritten from the file." 

"Monica, that will take forever," he said. 

"Well then you'd better get on with it because we don't have forever," she snapped. "I need something concrete, and I need it like now." 

He caught the look on her face and asked, "When?" 

"Yesterday afternoon," she answered softly. 

"If you're planning on convincing him to stay put by showing him notes that undoubtedly broke his heart then…" 

"I'm not showing him anything," she said. "Unless you get your finger out and do as I asked." She started pacing again. 

"Man is he _not_ going to be happy," Cody sighed as he turned back to the computer and dropped the note into the scanner. "You know, as "dear Johns," go…" 

"You've had better," Monica quipped unkindly. 

"Ouch," he replied, two-tone. "What I was going to say is that it's not very eloquent considering who she is." 

"She was stressed out Cody," Monica answered. "She'd just been held hostage for a day and a half and she…" 

"Oh boy," he said, bile leaping up to grab his throat. "She may have been stressed out – but she didn't write him this note."   
  
  


_They sent the next set of demands down out of the fifteenth storey window attached to a hostage. Within minutes all the phones on the floor were ringing. They made one of us pick up the phone._

_"They want to talk to you." One of the office juniors held out the receiver to our captors and the computer guy typed away at the computer again._

_"We can all hear you," the leading guy said. He was reasonably tall, with a slightly Germanic look about him in the way his blonde hair framed his face containing not blue but hazel eyes. It was the eyes that destroyed the appearance. "Though you have our demands so I don't see the reason for our talking."_

_"We need to know down here that the hostages are all right," the voice said._

_"All but one," Blondie answered. "And it seems that she can't fly."_

_"All right, point taken," the man on the other end of the phone sounded shocked. "Those are pretty extensive demands. It will take us a whil…"_

_"Oh no, my friend," he interrupted. "I've heard this one before and if it "takes a while" as you say, then I shall see if another of my hostages can fly. Am I understood?"_

_"You're understood," the police negotiator answered. "I'll see what I can do. I'd like to call you back if I may?"_

_"Do as you wish," Blondie answered. "So long as you meet my demands within the time limit."_

_He made a cutting motion with his hand and Computer guy hit a button to terminate the contact. I could tell by the way he looked around at the people gathered in the room that he was looking for his next victim._

_Something made me look back at the screen showing my home. Frank was tearing around the place, as though he was looking for something… finally looking for my friend's number perhaps. His cell phone rang, and he snatched it up._

_"Donovan," he answered._

_"Frank, it's Tom,"_

_"No," he answered. "Whatever it is, I have a problem right now, and I can't…"_

_"Donovan, turn on CNN." Something in the way Tom instructed him to do so made Frank reach for the remote control. The television – which I could clearly see through the camera they'd hidden in my lounge – showed the outside of the building I was in._

_"When did this happen?" Frank snapped into the phone which he brought back to his ear._

_"CCLB received a coded warning this morning,"_

_"Coded?" He repeated. "Who's the negotiator?"_

_"Frank, hold on…"_

_"Who is the negotiator Tom?" He snapped._

_"Frank there's something you should know…" Tom said instead._

_"Go," Frank instructed._

_"I ran that trace again…" I willed Thomas to be quiet… I knew what was coming and exactly the response it would elicit from Frank. "Now it might be nothing, she might just have left it behind…"_

_He didn't even have to finish the sentence._

_"I'm on my way down there…"_

_"Frank, it's not our juris…"_

_"Then get it MADE ours!" he snapped, grabbing his jacket he made toward the door. "And whoever the current negotiator is – do NOT let him go right to the wire and ask for more time, he won't get it… you hear me?"_

_"Frank…"_

_"Thomas!" Frank growled in frustration. "I'll be there in fifteen."_   
  
  
  


**NORTH RIVERSIDE PLAZA: 10.15pm Sunday**   


He heard nothing, he saw nothing, but in the next moment both his arms were grabbed and he felt the sting of a needle, before all the strength drained out of him. He tried to voice his denial. 

This would normally be the point at which the doors of a nearby van would burst open and the team would pour out to the rescue. 

No such luck… 

** 

**UNSPECIFIED LOCATION: 10.30pm Sunday**   


He came around slowly. His head aching like he'd been on a two day bender and his arm, where the needle had punctured, felt sore and enflamed. He moaned. 

"I was beginning to think that maybe we'd given you too much Mr Kale." A refined voice, with just the hint of a southern drawl, well hidden, addressed him from behind. He tried to screw his neck round to see the speaker, but his eyes were drawn to the side, where he saw something, or more to the point, someone that he would rather not have seen and put him in very real fear for his life and that of his friends. 

"Yeah, well," he whispered, trying not to panic and to keep the persona he'd made for himself. "You wanted to see me; you could have sent an RSVP." 

"Very droll Mr Kale," the voice behind him said. 

"So…" Jake whispered. "Since it's obviously not a social call, it must be business." 

"Been watching you, Mr Kale…" 

"Call me Anton," he whispered. "So you have my number, huh? Is that what you think?" 

His heart was racing, his mouth was dry. He was terrified that the next words out of the man's mouth were going to be his own real name. He heard the footsteps that came closer, and then the man came into view, and he found himself face to face with Mr Iain Reeves-Masterton. The man had a knife, and Jake fought not to struggle against the tape that bound him to the chair in which he had been confined. 

"I know you could be good for business, if that's what you mean," Reeves-Masterton said. "So I have a proposal for you," 

_Proposal, not proposition_. He let out the breath he'd been holding and nodded to his arms. 

"I do business much better when I can reach out and shake the hand of the man who's to be my partner," he whispered softly. 

Reeves-Masterton cut him free. "Didn't say anything about partners, Mr Kale…" 

"Then you'll excuse me… but I've had my fill of mere business associates." He answered in as bold a whisper as he could manage as she stood up. He nodded towards the woman he'd seen in the shadows. "She your partner?" 

"Not at all," The other man said. "Just an associate." 

"But you _do have_ a partner." Jake risked pushing. "So what would I be? Just another associate?" 

"You ask a lot of questions Mr Kale." 

He found himself on the receiving end of a viper like smile. He returned it as strongly as he could. 

"What you have to understand about me," he said in the trademark whisper that was getting him quite a name on the streets. "It's only by asking questions in the way that I do, and choosing my business very carefully that I've got where I am today." 

"I like the way you think, Anton," Reeves-Masterton reached out as though to pat Jake on his cheek. Quicker than even he thought possible, he raised his hand to intercept and slap the contact away. He heard the click of a weapon from the shadows and tensed, but Reeves-Masterton held up his hand. 

"I don't like to be touched," Jake whispered. "So… business partners – not associates. If you have to clear it with your partner, please do, but don't waste my time." 

He started toward the door of the motel room and then in a stage whisper said, "And call off your dogs!"   
  
  
  


_"Okay fifteen minutes, get me a line in," I watched. It was as if Frank had predicted exactly what would happen, but what was more worrying, was that these guys had eyes everywhere, even inside the ops van._

_"Don't do it." I heard his voice before I saw him._

_"Who the hell is this guy," the negotiator snapped. "Get him out of here."_

_"You make that call, you condemn another hostage to die," he refused to be moved._

_"I said, get him out of here," the cop started to pick up the phone, but Frank's hand came down over his wrist._

_"By this time, if you had any intention of even part way meeting their demands there would be a team in the stairwell to escort the courier up there… or the kidnappers and their hostages down. They know you don't mean it… MAKE them believe you…" he said urgently but quietly. "Get a team in there."_

_"Don't you just hate people that don't do their job?" the blonde man asked me. "What do you say we give him a little wake up call?"_

_He nodded at the Computer Guy who dialled up the number. I wanted to just put my head in my hands, or my hands over my ears or something. I didn't want to hear or see what I knew was coming._

_"Hey," Blondie said. "I see no movement Mr Police Negotiator. What's going on?"_

_"We, erm…" the police man glanced up at Frank._

_"Don't," he said softly, barely audible._

_"There's been a delay."_

_Frank sighed forcefully and moved away running his fingers through his hair._

_"You've had two hours, how long does it TAKE to count a hundred thousand twenties and to drive across town?" Blondie asked. "Why even bother driving. I can see at least thirty cars all parked around. Where's the delay? You didn't even need to get some fat cat banker out of his bed."_

_"There's procedure to follow," the answer was firm, but with a hint of uncertainty. Behind me, one of the women in the office started screaming and from the corner of my eye, I saw her being carried struggling toward a broken window. "I'm waiting on word from…"_

_Our captors tossed the terrified woman out of the window. With the most desperate of screams, that I heard in stereo, and which ended suddenly, she fell the fifteen floors_

_"She just bought you another thirty minutes," Blondie snapped and severed the contact. Turning to me with a wide grin he said, "Now let's see how long it takes."_

_"You don't need to PLAY these games," I said desperately. "He's there… he…"_

_The slap cut me off and made me bite my lip._

_"You will speak when I tell you to speak, understand?"_

_Mutely, I nodded, fighting the tears as I turned my attention back to the monitors in time to see the police negotiator rip off the headset and cover his face with his hands as Frank turned back to face the unfortunate man._

_"What are you standing orders in a situation like this?" he asked in a tone that left no doubt as to the other man's competence. He pointed up, presumably in the direction of the tower, "That man, up there, is playing with you and you are letting him. I told you this would happen and now you have two dead hostages instead of just one."_

_The police negotiator leaped up from his seat and rounded on Frank._

_"Temper, temper!" the man beside me chuckled. I ignored him as best I could and watched on._

_"Look! I don't know who the hell you think you are, but I didn't ask you for your advice."_

_"No you didn't," Frank answered confidently. "But I gave it, and you NEED it. Two million in used notes, right? This isn't about money. It was never about money – he just used that as an opening gambit, to test you. Right now he's sitting up there choosing another hostage to throw out of the window when you fail again."_

_"I know what I'm doing," the police negotiator growled. I could tell by his face that he knew Frank was right and didn't like it._

_Frank shook his head at the man's comment._

_"You're not in control of this. He is," he said. "And as long as he is, it might as well be you up there throwing out those hostages."_

_"Just who the HELL do you think you are?" he poked a finger in the centre of Frank's chest._

_The door opened beside him and Thomas Callaghan entered the ops van. He nodded to Frank._

_"I'm the man who's going to get those people out of there," he said, cocking his head at the police negotiator until he removed his finger from where it was still pointing at his chest. He stared at the man for a moment longer and then slipped off his jacket to hang it over the back of the seat the negotiator had vacated._

_"Alright people, listen." He held up his ID and turned it round so that each person had a chance to see it. "It doesn't matter that we don't know each other we're not going to be sleeping together. My name is Donovan and from now on, you need to sneeze, you clear it with me."_

_He pointed to person after person in the van, giving each of them a job to do._

_"You… I want air bags around the entire perimeter of that building. You… why can't I see or hear anything? I want eyes and ears in that building – go. You… I want two teams of SWAT, one on the ground, one on the roof of the building and sharp shooters in the building opposite. You… the keys to a fleet car and two million in unmarked, non consecutive bills in a case at my feet in five." He stopped speaking and looked round at the sea of astonished faces. "Why are you all still standing there? Every second you stand there someone takes one step closer to an open window."_

_As the others began moving about there assigned tasks he leaned down to speak more quietly to the man sitting in front of a bank of computers. "You…isolate communications in that building. Ours will be the only line in or…"_

_"Mr Donovan?" A young officer interrupted from behind._

_"Mr Donovan was my father. What is it?" he asked without turning around._

_"What about heat and light, sir?"_

_"No." he said unequivocally. "Cut off the power and you punish the hostages. They're already going to be afraid and uncomfortable. Our job is to make thing better for them, not worse."_

_"Sorry sir, I just thought…"_

_"You've been watching too much television," he turned his head to glance at the youngster. Then he fished in his pocket for his keys and tossed them in the young officer's direction, confident they would be caught. When he next spoke he had once again assumed his brisk tone. "You want to make yourself useful go get me my vest from the back of my car. Someone get me a headset please. Do we have com?"_

_"Yes, sir," the computer operator turned the monitor in Frank's direction. Frank took the headset that was passed to him and fixed it into place as he was plugged into the I/O socket._

_"Just so you all know," Frank addressed the team still in the van. "I have one rule. When I'm speaking with our mark, I want silence, you understand? No one makes a sound."_

_After a moment he glanced at the tech-op and nodded._

_I jumped as the telephone sounded. After what sounded like an eternity of ringing the man I'd named as Blondie picked up the phone, and pretending he didn't know about the change in personnel asked, "You come to your sense yet?"_

_"Listen very carefully to what I'm going to tell you," Frank's clear firm voice rang out over the monitor and in tinny stereo from the telephone receiver. "My name is Frank Donovan. I'm with the FBI's CNU. I think you know what that means. I care only about the lives and well being of the people you're holding hostage, so the way I see it, you've already killed two of my people. I can't accept that."_

_He paused for the briefest of moments to let that sink in._

_"I have your two million, but we both know this was never about the money and after what you've done to my people, I'm not very much inclined to talk right now. When you're ready to release the hostages pick up the phone and call me back, and don't even think about hurting anyone else. You'll only make this end badly for you."_

_He nodded and the tech-op disconnected the line. The ousted police negotiator came to his feet and grabbed Frank's arm._

_"What the hell…?" he spluttered. "You just gave him and open invitation to start…"_

_"No," Frank shook off the contact and pushed the man away with an open hand. The fingers spread, spider like over the man's chest. "This was about regaining ground that you lost with you indecisive and inept handling of the situation. Now sit down and keep out of my way, or get out of my ops van."_

_The man behind me chuckled and leaned down to whisper suggestively, "I'll bet he's good in bed too."_   
  
  
  


**ALLEYWAY BEHIND CLUB MYSTIQUE: 2.30am Tuesday (Week 4)**   


Alex sighed. It was supposed to make you feel better going out – so why the hell did she still feel like shit? And why was she purposefully walking a dark alley at night in a neighbourhood that she knew was dangerous? 

_Death wish_ she decided. Tempting fate… 

Almost as she thought the words a hand came around her waist and another across her mouth as she was lifted from the ground and pulled back into the shadow of a dumpster. 

"Trying to get yourself killed, Alex?" The voice whispered dangerously in her ear. She stiffened and went cold from head to foot. Even if she wasn't working she'd heard the word on the street about Kale. She suddenly found herself wishing she hadn't had to surrender her weapon. She bit down on the hand. 

"Let go of me you bastard!" she tried reaching back behind her with her finger, more to the point, fingernails leading. 

"Alex, ouch!" a more familiar voice yelped, and her feet came to rest on the ground, the arms around her moving to steady her. But it could be it… 

She spun round, the hands sliding around her middle and peered into the eyes of the man in front of her. 

"Jake?" she whispered, and then when the face cracked into the well known grin, despite the white blonde hair, that was spiked up, she knew it could be no other. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him hard on the mouth. "My god, Jake…" 

"Alex," he laughed, but hugged her just as fiercely. "I'm okay… I'm real…" 

"But we… we buried you we…" 

"I know," he interrupted and then added, "Listen, you guys are in trouble." 

"What do you mean?" she asked, "I'm still on leave, pending the OPR review I…" 

"You're up for review? What did you do?" 

"Told Bloom exactly what he could do with his Special Ops teams," she smiled, remembering the look that had come over Blooms face when she's told him what Keller had wanted to a hundred times, and Donovan probably had too. The smile faded as she said, "But Donovan…?" 

"Sorry Alex. That one's for real." 

She looked at the ground and sighed. 

"So what's going on?" she asked at last. 

"My cover as Kale has just started paying off," he said, "But one of the guys… that works for Reeves-Masterton… that was there at the meeting? I think she might be your replacement on the team." 

"What?" she looked at him, eyes wide in shock. 

"I only saw her once and she was UC then, but I'm pretty sure it was the same woman. You gotta tell Monica," he said. 

"How?" she asked, pacing away, until he pulled her back into the shadows. "I'm off the team, remember?" 

"Just try," he said 

"I'll do what I can," she answered. "Jake…?" 

"Hmm?" 

"Just promise me you'll be careful." 

"I promise." He squeezed her arm. She closed her eyes and when she opened them, she was alone in the alley. 

** 

**UC OPS VAN: 8.39pm Friday**   


"What the hell are they doing?" Teague snapped as he watched his UC agents on the monitor. 

"Well," Cody cleared his throat, "Sir… I think they're doing what you told them to do." 

"Don't get smart with me, Agent," the team leader shot back and snatched the headset off Cody's head. "Hart… West… back off, you're too close." 

Cody shook his head, and plugged in another headset for himself. _This would never have happened if Donovan were here._ He sighed and as he watched the nightmare of an operation going down in front of his eyes he thought back to the note he had proven to Monica to be a forgery. 

_Frank,_   
_I'm sorry, I can't do this. I walked too close to your world and was burned. I don't know how you live it every day. I can't. I haven't stopped loving you – I don't think I ever could do that. But it's not good for either of us for me to stay. I'm so sorry. I hope you'll find some way to forgive._   
_Saran_

Oh it was a good forgery… whoever _had_ written the note had been careful, the loops were right, everything was the right size, dimension, and everything except one small detail that they either hadn't known or thought wouldn't matter. Saran was left handed – and they had been right. 

But why? He could understand getting scared and running, but he'd got her out, taken her home without a scratch according to the medical report filed, pending… pending what? The file had said that she had just wanted Frank to take her home and that no one had argued too much. 

"What the...!" he was brought from his reverie by the angry voice of the team leader who threw the headset back onto the desk. 

"Hey!" Cody snapped. "The equipment!" 

"Stay here!" Teague ordered, as drawing his gun he moved to the door of the van. Monica moved to take his place behind Cody. 

"Never mind, Co… Oh shit!" she hissed. "Is that who I think it is?" 

"She's got a clear shot," Cody squeaked in panic, then saw as the spiky, blonde haired man on the business end of her gun dive to the side in the split second before she took the shot. "She had a clear shot. He was dead. Why didn't she take it?"   
  
  
  


_They made him stew all day. I tried not to let it show that I knew he was beginning to lose his cool, but from the number of time I saw that hand pass over his beard, I knew. We heard every word of the orders he gave, so they were always one step ahead of him. I wished I had a way to let him know they were watching him just as he was doing his best to watch them._

_Just as it started to get dark, Mr Blondie walked to the phone line and picked it up. Instantly we could hear the ringing tone as the phone rang down in the ops van. Frank raised his hand and everyone in the van fell silent, then he picked up the phone._

_"Donovan," he said._

_"Mr Donovan, you make a convincing argument," the man beside me purred into the telephone._

_"How are my people?" Frank asked, ignoring the attempt to flatter him. He knew it was just part of the game of cat and mouse currently being played._

_"Hungry," Blondie quipped._

_"Say the word and I will take them home," he answered._

_"Nice try, Fed."_

_"What then? You called for a chat. There's only one thing I want to hear from you, McGuirk. When you're ready to give it to me, call back." Frank hung up and turned to one of the officers in the van. "Three search lights, trained on the fourth floor of the block, ready to go on my signal."_

_"What do you say?" Blondie, or McGuirk as Frank had called him, asked me. "Should I give him what he wants? I mean, you'd know all about that."_

_He reached around me, and ran his fingers over my stomach. I froze, bile starting to climb my throat. He couldn't know. How could he know? I only just knew for sure._

_"Please don't," I whispered as his fingers settled over the top of my womb. "He doesn't know."_

_"And that's the way it's going to stay," The woman spoke, for only the second time in the whole of the evening. Her voice was cold – harsh. She frightened me more than any of the others. "I know he's confided in you all about the investigation of his brothers death and the arms cases, so let me tell you how this is going to work if Frank is sensible enough to get you out of this alive…"_

_I knew the moment she started talking that I wasn't going to like what she had to say… but I also knew I wouldn't have any choice. By the time she had finished speaking I was crying so hard I almost couldn't draw breath._

_"And don't think to do anything stupid. You already know that we've been watching you and you know what we can, and WILL do." She took me from McGuirk's arms and made me sit in the chair in front of the monitors. "But we'll give you tonight to say goodbye, provided of course we don't have to kill you to get our point across."_

_I wiped my eyes, and in that moment he looked up as if he knew I was watching him. He looked tired, tense and worried. I saw the effort in him as he fought to let the telephone ring when McGuirk picked up the phone again. Anyone else would have missed it… but I KNEW him. I'd soothed away those knots from his shoulders, kissed away the frown from his face and smoothed my fingers over bitten lips._

_"Donovan," he answered._

_"All right Donovan, this is how it's going to go," he said quietly. On the monitor, Frank held up his hand for silence, as if he were listening for something. "You get half the hostages now then you come up here for a little tête-à-tête."_

_"You pull your shooters out of the fourth floor window and I'll see what I can do," he answered. "There will be no casualties on this one."_

_"And if I don't, Mr Crack-shot Negotiator, what will you do? You going to pass up the chance to free a bunch of "your people" as you'd say?" McGuirk teased._

_"You'll let those people go McGuirk and you'll do as I say," Frank's voice was low and dangerous, "Because I have something you want."_

_There was a tense silence for a while before McGuirk agreed with a single word. I saw Frank signal to the young officer that he'd sent to fetch his vest and began to don the protective clothing._

_"I want EMTs behind the safe line and a retrieval team in riot gear now!" he snapped and people began all but falling over themselves to comply. He turned to the tech-op and pointing to the headset he wore demanded, "Make this mobile!"_

_There was a flurry of movement from the people down with Frank, before someone told him that the retrieval team was ready and he moved toward the doorway of the ops van, and out of view of the camera. I could still hear him as he briefed the team._

_ "These people are going to be tired… afraid… we're going to want to get them out of there fast. The moment those doors open we need to be ready with those searchlights. Two second bursts… He's said he'll pull his shooters back, but he's lying and the last thing we need is gunfire to make the hostages coming out panic – the light should keep them off balance for long enough to get them out. Get them shielded as quickly as you can. You…" there was a heartbeat's pause, "…do up that vest. This is not a training exercise. Now go. Team two, this Donovan…"_

_"Receiving," the leader of the team of sharp shooters in the building opposite our called back._

_"If you get a clear shot – take it."_   
  
  
  


**RESIDENCE MONICA DAVIS – BEDROOM: 11pm Friday**   


This time they both paced the floor, in opposite directions trying to make sense of what they had seen. Agent Hart had clearly had a shot on Jake, but had hesitated long enough for him to get out. What was going on? Did she _know_? Had she somehow recognised Jake despite the drastic change in appearance? 

Monica turned to face him as he reached the other side of the bedroom. 

"You know there are things that are starting to fall into place here that I don't like?" she said. "You get anywhere with the files?" 

He shook his head but said, "Well yeah, but there's nothing in there that sets off any warning bells, except perhaps the fact that all three are so squeaky clean it's enough to make you want to revisit dinner, if you know what I mean." 

"Thank you," she said, clearly not meaning it at all, "for that image." 

"Any time," he said dryly. "You know I've been thinking…" 

"Alex called, did I tell you?" Monica interrupted, sitting down on the side of the bed. 

"No," he said. "What did she say? How is she?" 

"She wanted to come over," she answered. 

"You think she's forgiven you or wants to kick your ass?" 

"She could try." She looked up at him. "I didn't get time to meet up with her, we got that case and…" 

He shrugged, "Well we got a couple of days." 

"Yeah," she answered. "So what have you been thinking?" 

"That we're missing something…" 

"Tell me something I _don't_ know," she said sarcastically. 

"I mean," he mused aloud. "Why?" 

"Why what?" she asked. 

"Why leave… it doesn't make sense." 

"So maybe, the note was fake… maybe they took her again." 

He sat down on the other side of the bed as the two of them started bouncing ideas back and forth, thrashing out the missing pieces. 

"No," he disagreed. "If she was taken, for whatever reason, she wouldn't have left it so long to come back…" 

"Maybe she moved on," Monica argued. 

"No," he said again then added sourly. "Women do not… move on… from men like Donovan. Believe me, I know." 

"Cody…" 

She started to reach out toward his pouting face, but he sat back quickly and didn't allow her to finish whatever pep talk she was going to give him about smart being sexy or some such other rot. 

"And then there's this…" he pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it to her. "After the kidnapping, Saran was released… her file says, without a scratch, that she went home with Donovan, supposedly to live happily ever after." 

"Well we know _that_ didn't happen." Monica answered, and looked down at the piece of paper and the HMO code written on it. "What's this?" 

"I did some digging. The FBI report on that whole incident…" 

"Let me guess… classified." 

"Oooh," he said sarcastically, "You're good. But…" 

He held up a finger in triumph. 

"The bureau had to pay for each one of those hostages to be checked over. I ran the codes looking for anything unusual… looking for anything that would explain why the file said that she was being release pending… according to the HMO's own files. Saran was released AMA pending… whatever that is." He pointed at the piece of paper. 

"So what are you thinking?" 

"I'm thinking I need to go visit a sick relative."   
  
  
  


_My eyes were closed. I daren't open them because I didn't know what I would do if I saw him face to face._

_The wrist across the front of my neck, with the hand pressed across my cheek hurt, was choking me, and the cold metal pressed against the back of my ear left me feeling more nauseous as the terror took a hold. My feet were barely touching the ground as they took me with them out into the hallway, toward the stairwell._

_"Put them down!"_

_The pressure increased on the back of my head and letting out a frightened whimper my eyes flew open to find myself staring straight into the hardened eyes of the man I loved. He had a gun in his hands, pointing in my direction – well not at me, but at McGuirk who held me – there were three others, SWAT from the look of them, in the stairwell behind him._

_"We both know that's not going to happen," he answered. His eyes flicked to the side; to the woman whose gun was also pointing in my direction, though she was looking at him. "Hello Veronica. It's been a while. Still breaking up homes?"_

_"You're going to hold that against me for the rest of my life, aren't you Frank?" she answered. "But I didn't do anything that Max didn't want."_

_"I didn't come up here to talk about Max," he said softly and I knew from the slight tightening at the side of his eyes that she'd touched a nerve. Otherwise, he showed nothing but quiet confident calm._

_"You think?" the woman, Veronica asked._

_"You okay, Saran?" he ignored her and spoke to me softly. It brought tears to my eyes. "It's okay, don't… I'm going to get you out of here."_

_"Okay," I whispered fearfully._

_"What about the others?" he asked, still talking to me. "Everyone else okay?"_

_"The hostages are fine… for now." Veronica answered crossly._

_"I'm not interested in anything you have to say until I know my people are safe," he said lightly. "Saran?"_

_"Frightened." I told him. We were. We were all of us terrified, them not knowing why this was happening, and me, even knowing, just as afraid – perhaps even more so._

_"I'm going to take you home," he promised._

_"You have a file, Mr Donovan," Veronica snapped. "Everything surrounding the investigations Max was involved in when he died."_

_"I'm not leaving here without the hostages," he answered straight away. "You want your file you have to let them go."_

_It was the first moment I realised that if they hadn't been spying on him from the beginning, knowing every move he was going to make the whole thing would have been over in half the time and we would have all been home safely hours ago. Veronica stiffened, clearly not expecting him to make that demand. I didn't have time to enjoy the realisation though because McGuirk lost his cool and pulled back the hammer on the gun._

_It sounded so loud against my ear and I almost screamed, tears spilling from my eyes. I didn't want to die. I wrapped my arms around myself, across my belly and the sudden sickening knot that had settled there._

_"He won't hurt you," Frank raised his voice a little so that I would hear him over the sound of my own distress. He met my eyes, his own asking for my trust in him. "She's all that stands between you and me, McGuirk. Think about that you're doing. Right now you're looking at walking out of here with everything you want, but if you hurt her… everything changes."_

_"You think so?" McGuirk moved the gun from behind my ear to the side of my temple and Veronica moved her gun to point it at Frank. Two of the three officers in the stairwell moved to cover her with their weapons._

_"Please!" the word burst from my lips. I trusted him, his judgement, but this was too much. My stomach was knotted so tightly it actually hurt, my head ached, I almost daren't breathe._

_"What's it to be, Ronnie?" he asked softly, but not before I'd seen him tighten his jaw in response to my distress._

_She reached out to take me from McGuirk's near strangle hold, pulling me in front of her and putting her gun under my chin, to force my head back against her shoulder._

_"Go and get the others," she instructed and then turned to Frank. "We get the file and transport out of here, you get the girl."_

_"The others leave now," he said, his eyes telling me to hold on just a little while longer. I felt the woman behind me nod her agreement._

_One of the police officers moved up out of the stairwell to provide better cover for the hostages as they hurried down the stairs. Frank was the last to leave, backing down the steps, his eyes never leaving mine._   
  
  
  


**UC APARTMENT JAKE SHAW/ANTON KALE: 4.50am Saturday**   


The gun was slapped off the nightstand and he was pinned to the bed by a figure straddling him. Seconds later the light came on and he was forced to screw up his eyes until they adjusted. 

He looked at the woman pinning him to the bed. Blonde, quite tall from the look of her, not that he could tell properly from where she was sitting across his lap on top of the bedclothes. Behind her, the woman from before… from the motel where he'd met Reeves-Masterton. In the better light he was now sure it was the woman from the team. He only hoped that Alex had been able to get Monica to listen. 

"I didn't know you cared so much for my physical needs," he whispered, reaching up a hand suddenly to the blonde woman's head to draw her down and kiss her lips. He figured it was the kind of thing Kale would have done. She pulled back and slapped his face. 

"That was a very foolish thing you did, Mr Kale," Reeves-Masterton said lazily from a chair across the room by the closet. 

"You can't wake a red blooded man with a beautiful woman sitting over him like this and expect me not to react. She wanted it," he replied and stopped her from slapping him with a fiercely dangerous look. 

"I wasn't referring to your kissing Mrs Donovan." Reeves-Masterton said. It took all of Jake's self control not to react. "Though I'm sure it was a foolish move on your part. Clare has been known to kill men for less." 

"He meant down by the docks." The woman with the gun snapped. "I could have killed you." 

"And I still might," he hissed and pushed the woman from his lap and got out of bed, reaching for his pants to cover his modesty. "You didn't tell me you're a Fed." 

"There are a lot of things we haven't told each other, are there not, Mr Kale?" Reeves-Masterton purred. "But no matter. Get dressed. My business partner is anxious to meet you." 

Jake felt a flush of elation through his body as he went to the closet to get a fresh shirt to go with the pants. He buttoned the shirt quickly – sure that by lunch time he would have everything settled. 

** 

**RESIDENCE MONICA DAVIS: 3.20pm Saturday**   


The minute she opened the door he grabbed her arm and dragged her through to her bedroom. 

"We are so busted," he told her urgently. 

"Well hello to you too, Cody," she said sarcastically. "And how was your sick relative?" 

"Pissed," he said. "What did you tell him exactly… about what was going on?" 

He moaned and ran his fingers through his hair when she gave him a sheepish look. 

"You told him nothing did you?" he squeaked, "Not about Jake, about Saran… you didn't tell him we were still investigating the case." 

"Cody… when I went to see him he was still out of it," she said trying to defend herself. 

"Yeah, well…" he hissed. "I assumed that you'd told him and went in explaining to him how we understood it was personal and probably painful for him, but that we needed to know what had happened because we needed to crack the case…" 

Monica started laughing. 

"Stop it!" he said, not laughing at all, even though he could see why she thought it amusing. "His blood pressure went so high the freaking alarms started going off." 

"Cody, he'll get over it," she said, trying to control herself. 

"No," he said, and slapped a piece of paper into the middle of her chest, much has Donovan had done almost a month before. "Unless we find out the name of the person behind this, nothing… will be the same. That's why Saran left. And I'm willing to lay down any amount of money you care to name that she knows the identity of the man at the top." 

He took his hand off the paper at last for her to look at what had so upset him. She paled.   
  
  


_Each step I took I was terrified that I would fall. You wouldn't think that walking down the stairs, held by someone using you as a human shield would be so hard, but it was. Frank was there, three paces ahead of us, always three… three stairs down, file folder in one hand, gun in the other, trained on Veronica and McGuirk._

_And tired, so very, very tired that when the fresh air hit me, as we finally reached the bottom and Frank opened the door, leading us out into the darkness, I almost swooned._

_"Keep walking, bitch!" McGuirk hissed in my ear._

_Then we got to the car… one of those plain fleet cars that I'd seen following me about earlier in the day before. There was a bit of a stand off. They didn't want to let go of me – Frank wouldn't let go of the file. It was just the three of them and me. Frank had stood down the rest of the team to make the exchange less stressful for everyone._

_"I'm going to put the file on the hood of the car," he said. "Let her go."_

_"We'll let her go when we know it's the right file," Veronica answered. She pulled me once more from McGuirk's grasp and held me so tightly that I thought I was going to choke. McGuirk went to the car, and flipped through the file. He nodded._

_"Keys," he snapped._

_What happened next has remained in my dreams – in my nightmares – ever since. It was as though time crawled around me and everything was moving as if underwater, or more accurately, in molasses._

_Veronica had backed up to the side of the car with me, waiting for Frank to comply and hand over the keys. When McGuirk made his demand, Frank tossed the keys in his direction. McGuirk had to stow his weapon to catch the deliberately awkwardly thrown keys and then to unlock the car._

_As Veronica turned slightly, almost but not quite turning away from Frank, he called her name. She spun to face him, tightening her grip on the gun against my head. I've never heard a gunshot before – not so close anyway. As she started to turn back toward him Frank pulled the trigger on his gun, not once, but twice in very quick succession._

_The first shot took her in the shoulder. She was taller than me and it was exposed. It spun her further away from me. Blood splashed on the side of my neck and face and I screamed. His second shot hit her in the centre of her forehead._

_"Let him go!" he yelled to the Agents and policemen that rushed forward to try and get a shot off at McGuirk, who in panic was driving the car backward down the street until he could turn it._

_I remember fighting Frank, hysterical as his arms folded around me and he pulled me in, to stop me from hurting either of us – and then the feeling of nausea that had been with me almost constantly since the whole thing began grabbed hold with a vengeance and stole the strength from my legs. I know he didn't let go, even when I was sick in the side of the road. He just held me as close as he could and whispered the sweet words that I knew were a lie – and though no fault of his – that everything was all right now. That I was safe…_   
  
  


**MORGAN CREEK, IL: 6.45pm Saturday**

"We know, okay, Saran," Cody stood next to her while Monica sat in the seat. "We know why you had to leave. Why you did the things you have." 

"They threatened the child, didn't they?" Monica asked more softly. "That if you didn't leave him they'd do something to you and you'd lose it? We understand, but…" 

"What would you have done?" Saran finally cracked under their repeated pressure, the pressure of them telling her the tale as far as they had worked it out. They were pretty close and unlocked the grief she had somehow managed to push inside when the other agent… what had been his name – Jake – had told her that she'd done and they had demanded. That she had killed Frank. That thought broke it all down… she wept in anguish "I was pregnant… and scared. I'd seen what they'd done… how they'd watched us without either of us knowing." 

"We can _end_ this," Cody leaned down across her chair and made her look at him. "You _know_ don't you. The name of the person responsible." 

"I can't…" she cried, pushing him away. 

"You just give us the name, and we will take him _out_," Monica caught her instead. 

"No!" she pushed her away too. "I can't… you don't understand _anything_ do you. They have my child. If you go anywhere near… if you…" 

She broke off, and stood up, backing away from the agents. Cody followed, taking hold of her hands. 

"Saran, I understand. I know how frightened you were, and are, but you should have told him. Told Frank what was going on," he said. "He could have protected you." 

"You… have… _no idea!_" she gritted her teeth to get the words out past her tears. "I loved that man more than I can possibly say. More than my _life_! They made me leave like that to stop him pursuing the case that killed Max… if he didn't stop they were going to kill him, and kill our child and I was the _only_ one that could keep them both safe, but I _died_ doing it because he wasn't there with me. 

"And so long as he left the case alone we were safe. Locked away from everything that gave meaning to my life but safe... but he just had to take it up again – and they came storming in like the wrath of God and took my baby from my arms as though it was all my fault and not some faceless bureaucrat." 

Monica tried to move closer. She had obviously recognised the tone in Saran's voice… someone that had lost everything and had nothing left to lose… it was a dangerous place to be, but Saran moved a step away, still holding Cody's hands as he held hers. 

"He was doing his job," she said softly instead. 

"Yes…" she shook Cody's hands up and down like she was trying to make a point, her face crumpled in. "And _look_ where it got him. Look what I _did_ to him…! He had the gun in his hands, it would have been okay – he was going to listen, he…" 

"Cody, don't!" Monica said as he opened his mouth to speak. 

"So don't you ask me to tell you anything more!" Saran suddenly snapped, anger rushing in to take the place of her tears, the progress of it almost visible over her face. "This case has already taken Frank from me. I am not going to sacrifice the child he gave me!" 

"Saran he's okay, he…" 

"Cody!" Monica gave the warning a split second too late. 

Understanding dawned on Saran's face, and then further she made an intuitive leap to entirely the wrong conclusions – that Frank was out there still working on the case. 

"No!" she screamed at Cody, and pushing hard against him and dragging her wrists away from his grasp she closed her hands around his weapon and she pulled it from the holster. She screamed the next words at them. "I will not let you _do_ this. This is my _child_ you're risking. And he doesn't know she exists." 

He stumbled and fell, giving her the chance she needed to get away as Monica tried to catch him. She ignored their frantic cries for her to stop and the pain in her hand as she tore a nail trying to get the screen door of Cody's uncle's house open. It all paled into insignificant nonsense against the certainty she felt that she was about to lose her child.   
  
  
  


_The cold air blowing against her legs roused me from the state of near paralysis I was in, and I felt him lean across me to unfasten the belt._

_"Come on, baby," he crouched beside me looking up. "We're home… let's get you inside."_

_"I'm okay," I answered, hearing my voice shaking. Absently I pushed my hair back from where the wind was tossing it over my face. I must have phased out again then, because the next thing I remember was sitting down again, this time on something soft._

_"Frank," I whispered his name and he turned back from where he was hanging up his jacket. "Hold me."_

_He crossed the room in an instant and I was in the warmth of his arms. That was when the tears began, tears I hadn't been able to cry at the building, or at the hospital – not even when I thought they wouldn't let me come home that night._

_That night… my last at his side… how could I bear the thought of having to leave?_

_"I love you so much," I sobbed against his chest._

_He cupped my face between his hands, drew me back to look at me, full of the same depth of feeling… washing over me. He brushed his thumbs over my cheeks to wipe away the tears._

_"We're going to be all right, Saran." He kissed first one cheek and then the other, his tongue lifting the tears away as fast as I cried them. "I promise we'll be okay."_

_"I…" I should have told him… then – that was the moment but I just buckled, kept thinking of what they said they'd do to him. So I whispered, "I know."_

_When next he lowered his head to kiss away a tear I moved so that my lips met his. In other circumstances it might have been passionate, but we were both so very tired that it was slow… a smouldering passion that was a meeting of hearts as well as lips. Our lips softened and I opened to him, to let him stroke my tongue with his, and with shaking hands, pushing off the leather shoulder holster._

_He shrugged it off, and it moved him too far away. I couldn't feel enough of him against me._

_"Don't…" I breathed. "I just need you so much."_

_We kissed then, holding tightly to each other until we lay back against the bed. Just being there together… touching and kissing for a very long time… only I felt as if the world were coming to an end._

_"We should…" he began softly._

_"I don't want to sleep." I murmured, still tearful. "I don't ever want tonight to end."_

_"Saran, what's wrong?" he leaned up on one elbow, his hand resting on my stomach. It fluttered under his touch. "Sorry, stupid question… but it's over now. You're safe."_

_"Yes," I sniffed, and guided his hand onto my skin where my shirt had ridden up. My eyes closed as his fingers began to move over my side, and the soft caresses on the top of my shoulders got larger, firmer until I began leaning into his touch._

_Gentle kisses began to fall softly over my face and neck, I moaned to try and deny the fresh tears access to my eyes. I might as well have saved the trouble, they came anyway… only increasing as he unfastened the shirt and continued to kiss down over me… kissing the tops of my breasts and downward._

_He leaned his head for a moment on my stomach, looking up at the tears still rolling from my eyes and looked as though he was trying to understand them. His hand skimmed upward to caress my breast as he gave me a heartbreakingly tender look._

_"Saran," he whispered, moving so that he could kiss my lips, "Please don't cry."_

_"I'm sorry," I whispered._

_Clothing surrendered to touches that became increasingly urgent, passionate and strong, but always gentle, always careful. He was always careful with me, reminding me how precious I was to him… as he was to me._

_Naked, he lay back and moved to guide me over him, straddling his hips. I leaned into the touch of his hands that glided up my body to cup my breasts as I sank down onto him, biting my lip as he filled me, my tiny hands braced against his shoulder, the muscles moving under my fingers as he caressed me, touched me… never stopped touching._

_Oh dead God, why did this have to happen? Why couldn't I wake in the morning and find it was all some dreadful dream?_

_"Frank," I sobbed, falling forward onto his chest "Not enough, not close enough…"_

_He wrapped me in his arms, and rolled to cover me. Pressing all of his body against me, kissing me and filling my mouth as he filled me below. I made a sound somewhere between a sob and crying out for the pleasure of the feeling and let my head fall back. Kisses showered down on my neck, he nipped with sharp teeth and soothed the sting with his tongue as we fell into a rhythm._

_We knew each other, he knew how to touch me… how to move with me to bring me the most sensation as I knew where to touch, how to love… so long in the learning. So much love. We spun it as a web around us, the strands tightening as we moved together and felt each move he made over and in me – so alive to him._

_The sensations rose, winding tighter and tighter until I was gasping with each thrust that brought him into me and calling his name as he withdrew until the bright wave broke and brought him with me. He cried out my name as he lost himself inside me._

_"Saran," he breathed a second later, "My love…"_

_"My life…" I answered._   


_We wept, both of us, and then drifted into sleep together… tears still spilling from my eyes, and he still whispering soothing words against my hair._

_I woke suddenly just before dawn, still wrapped in the warmth of his arms. I had to go now, while he was sleeping. If I waited, I'd fail… I'd falter… and then everything would all go wrong… he'd be hurt he…_

_"What's wrong?" he murmured, gathering me closer._

_"Just a dream I guess…" I whispered fighting tears. I kissed the middle of his chest. "Frank I love you so much."_

_"I love you too," he answered sleepily. I moved quietly out of his arms a little, "Where are you going?"_

_"Bathroom," I whispered._

_He let go then and I made my way to the bathroom, and to the clothes that were there. I leaned against the door and suddenly felt breathless with the pain that spread out from my heart. I shook with the sobs that wracked my small body as I dressed. Every single moment we had shared flashed before my eyes, every kiss, every touch… and visions of what we could have been…_

_I don't know how I made it down the stairs to the door, but when I opened it, they were waiting there. I stood, tears streaming down my face, looking back into the house._

_"Please…" I whispered through those tears. They took my arms and led me from the house. Someone entered to place an envelope onto the table in the lounge, but I had already left him a note. Written as I sat in the bathroom that morning… a crude un-tempered poem, trying to convey that I didn't want to go…_

_"Where I have gone before I pray to go again_   
_And waking to life_   
_Live in love, with you a part of me._   
_Kind weavers of destiny, bring me home._   
_End this torment that I may_   
_Dream forgiveness and allow a moment to remember."_

_I tried not to think of the pain he would feel when he found me gone. I was already dying from my own at having to leave. As they led me to the car I pushed a protective hand against the child that was all I had left of him._   
  
  


**NORTHWEST MEMORIAL HOSPITAL: 10pm Saturday**   


He lay awake, though his eyes were closed, frustrated beyond belief that he was still in the hospital bed, where there was nothing he could do. Since Cody's visit his mind had been a whirl of activity, the pieces of the puzzle floating around in his head. 

It had been Veronica Sharpe, Reeves-Masterton's secretary that had gotten Max into the business when they had the affair, and they'd had the affair… he reached, grasping… because they'd wanted his silence – had paid him off… He felt a pang of guilt that his brother could have done that. Clare had brought him around; he'd gone back to her… she made him give up working for Masterton. 

And then he'd died. It was a stupid mistake… a single hesitation that he still didn't understand and they'd blown him away. He knew Clare blamed herself for that. He'd lost count of the times he'd held her, weeping and blaming herself for her husbands death… that if she'd let him carry on then he'd still be alive and their son would still have a father, and he'd be a happily married man with… 

He stopped dead, his eyes snapped open. 

Had he told her that? About the connection between the CNU case and Saran… and about how he suspected they'd taken her again to keep his silence…? He made himself back up… go over ever detail looking for the answer to that question – he fought back wave after wave of emotion that crashed over him until he was reeling under the force of it and his pillow was wet with the tears he'd shed. 

_"You put me onto this case, Quiller. You wanted me to investigate and now you're telling me to stop?"_

_The Presidential Aide walked over and put a hand onto his shoulder. "I'm ASKING you to stop, Frank. For your own good… you need to face it – she's gone. She's not coming back, and you're not going to find her."_

_"You don't know that," he growled in denial._

_"Yes, Frank, I do." Quiller said quietly. "It's been six months and you're no closer to finding her now that you were when she first walked out. The Bureau needs you back. You can do ANY job you want – you have my word. Whatever you want I'll clear it with the Justice Department. But the Bureau needs you. Your sister-in-law needs you…"_

Anthony Quiller… and Clare? 

A rattle against his IV pole set every danger sense he possessed into overdrive. Even without knowing who it was, or where exactly there were he moved as quickly as his still healing injuries would allow. Rolling onto his side he stretched out his right hand to catch a slender wrist in his grasp. He surprised himself at how strong it was. Slowly he opened his eyes. 

"Clare," he said softly, seeing his sister-in-law standing over him with the syringe poised against the cannula in the back of his hand. "What's in that?" 

"I don't know," she said. She sounded afraid. "They just told me…" 

"How long, Clare?" he asked, feeling utterly betrayed. "How long have you been working for Quiller? It is Quiller, isn't it?" 

"Yes," she whispered. He squeezed until the syringe dropped from her hand. "After Max's death… he just turned up… offered to help – college fees for Mark and medical expenses and…" 

"So you sold out," he finished the sentence. 

"It wasn't like that. Please Frank, let go. You're hurting me," she said. "All he wanted was for me to keep quiet about what I knew…" 

"You're lying. It doesn't make sense," he snapped. "Why would he buy your silence and then have me investigate the case?" 

"He thought he was being cheated. That Reeves-Masterton was cutting in a third party and using Quiller's share to do it," she said. "But you were never meant to get as close as you did…" 

"And all the while I was confiding in you, you were running to him." Frank said, finally letting her go. 

"No one was meant to get hurt, Frank," she said. "When he told me what he planned to do, to shut you down I tried to stop… wanted to warn you, but they threatened my son." 

"It's what they do, Clare… people like that," he said, falling exhausted back to the bed. "And the only way to end that is to stop them. Tell me where they are…" 

"It's too late Frank. You'd never get to them in time." 

He fixed her with a long hard stare, realising that his team had somehow been compromised and that there as nothing he could do from his bed he then snapped. "Help me get up, and then get me to a phone."   



	4. Act 4

If… In the End – Act 4

  
  
  


_When you come to think about it, when you come to look back on your life and ask yourself if you did what was right, I think all of us at some point would answer "no," where we have acted out of fear, grief, hate… a million and one other negative emotions.___

_My mistake – I forgot about the only force that has the power to actually change lives, to save lives, and to make an improvement in the quality of the life we lead as individuals and with the others that touch out lives.___

_My mistake was not that I didn't trust in Frank's ability to have worked it all out and to keep me safe. I forgot to trust in love.___

_If… In the end… at the end of my life I look back and have one last message for those I am to leave behind me it would be that.___

_Have faith and trust in love._   
  
  
  


**RESIDENCE ALEX CROSS: 11.30pm Saturday**   


The television played unheard in the background. She had – for the second night running – fallen asleep on the couch. Plagued by nightmares she found no rest in her bed. Granted she had been drinking, but not that much, but even here, the nightmare found her, and her head tossed against the arm of the couch that supported her head. 

Sweat broke out on her forehead, and then soaked through the top she wore. She moaned softly – a sound of denial… her breathing quickened and she shivered. 

She cried out and sat up, awakened but disoriented as the telephone rang. Coming back from the darkness into which she had been slipping, she snatched up the receiver. 

"Yeah?" she said breathlessly. 

"Alex?" the voice said. She stiffened. This was too much… way too much. 

"Look," she snapped. Whoever this was, they were playing with their head, recordings of Donovan's voice, no doubt edited to anticipate what she might say. "I don't know who the hell you are you sick fuck or even where you got this number but…" 

"I need your help, Alex," he interrupted. 

"Yeah, you need help all right, buddy," she replied sarcastically. "When you're done playing at being a dead guy, maybe you could…" 

"Maybe I could what?" he snapped, and the tone of his voice made her suddenly doubt her initial impression that this was some kind of wind up. "Make you feel better? I don't have time for this. Monica, Cody and Jake don't have time for this. Meet me at South Morgan and West Fortieth." 

He hung up before she had a chance to say anything else. What if it really was Donovan? A flush of hope went through her, but faded as she remembered Jake telling her that his death was for real. Jake wouldn't lie to her. He was her partner, her life depended on him more times than she could remember… but what if he didn't know either? 

Tears of confusion claimed her eyes. It didn't help that she was so tired… but then – she looked at her watch. There was only one way to find out… before going anywhere, she walked upstairs to the closet and uncovered the box on the floor. 

She hadn't been able to do it before… it was too painful, but now she had no choice. She was not about to go out to meet this… well whoever it was, without some kind of weapon in her hand and this was all she had. It had been his – John's. She ran her fingertips over the grip, emotion rising again, before in a sudden almost desperate grasp, before she changed her mind, she grabbed it and thrust it into the waistband of her pants. She grabbed a shirt and jacket against the night air, and left. 

** 

**UC CRIB: Midnight Saturday/Sunday**   


"So now what?" Cody asked as he turned in his chair, away from the computers. "Go down there and pick her up? The flight doesn't leave for several hours yet." 

"No," Monica shook her head. "She's going to DC… what's in DC?" 

"Hmmm," he mused sarcastically, "Let me think. Smithsonian, Pentagon… the White House. Hey the White House… maybe she's going to petition the President to make them give her back her baby!" 

Until then she had been ignoring his sarcasm, but she turned to him with a glare that made him shrink back in his chair. 

"Quit screwing around Cody, I'm serious," she snapped. Pointing to the computer she added, "What, to do with this case, happened in DC?" 

Hesitating only a moment longer until she glared at him and pointed again, he turned back to the computers and called up the encrypted files. This time it was his encryption. Accessing the files took less than a moment and then he was entering search after search, trying to find something that would make sense, would give them a lead. 

"Nada," he hissed in frustration after several long moments of typing search strings. "Zip!" 

"There must be something," she said crossly. 

"Like what?" he implored her to give him a clue rather than yell at him when he didn't come up with the goods. He was as frustrated as she was. 

"I don't know," she said. "Do what you do – find something off the wall." 

"Hey, you're the profiler," he pointed out less than gently as he started throwing crazy searches that made no logical sense at the computer. Finally, by accident or maybe because his fingers were so used to entering the NCIC search code, he did just that. The computer beeped at him obediently and then returned a result. 

"Whoa!" he snapped his fingers and gestured to Monica to come back. She had started towards the stairs. "This is interesting." 

** 

**CORNER OF S MORGAN AND W FORTIETH ST: 12.05am Sunday**   


He was cold. Literally shivering in spite of the overcoat he'd put on. He didn't suppose the fact that he was so damn tired was helping much or that now that the pain medication he hadn't even been aware he was on had started wearing off he had a growing ache down the entire length of his right side, front and back. 

But at least he was on his feet. 

A hand grabbed his shoulder, mercifully his left one, but even as he sighed with relief of that small fact the hard cold barrel of a gun pressed against the back of his neck, pointing upward. 

"I'm going to step away, and I want you to turn around real slowly," Alex voice was strained. "You should know I'm a very good shot and if you try anything stupid I'll take your head clean off your shoulders." 

"If you're such a crack shot, how come I have to sign off on so many rounds?" he asked softly. When her hand came off his shoulder as though she had been scorched, he slowly turned. 

"Donovan," she whispered, her arms lowering from where she was pointing the gun in his face. 

He smiled faintly. 

"Good to see you too," he said. 

In the next moment she stepped forward and slapped his face, hard. He closed his eyes as her palm impacted against his cheek and turned his head to the side. He heard something metallic clatter to the ground and cautiously opened his eyes in time to see Alex back up a step, and then she cover her face with her hand to catch the sob swept over her. 

"You bastard!" she said on the edge of the sob. "You didn't think to tell me?" 

He reached for her. She leaned against him, holding the front of his coat when he caught her, holding her lightly around the back of the neck, and as she let go of the emotion driving her anger, he rested his right arm across her back, ignoring his own pain to comfort her. 

"I thought you knew," he explained softly. 

"Frank, I am in so much trouble," she whispered tearfully against his chest as he held her. 

"We all are," he said, finally easing her away. He took a deep breath to breathe away the tired dizziness, and the cold and said, "Alex, I'm sorry, can you drive… we can talk in the car." 

"Where are we going?" she asked as she wiped the remaining tears off her face and moved, somewhat awkwardly out of his arms and bent down to retrieve the gun she'd dropped. 

"Airport," he said. "And I need your phone and a file from my office." 

"Are you sure you should be out of the hospital?" she asked him astutely. 

"I need to finish this," he said firmly and for once, she didn't argue. 

** 

**ESTATE OF ANTHONY QUILLER, WASHINGTON DC: 1.15am Sunday**   


Jake couldn't remember a time when he had felt more uncomfortable walking into a situation on a case. Going UC was one thing but Deep Cover – with no back up, no one to cover his ass… not even any communication with the others on whom, he realised, he'd come to rely – that was something else entirely. 

He was led into an opulent lounge where, late as it was, a young woman sat rocking a small baby in her arms, while the child fed. An older man looked on, playing with the baby's hand that clenched and unclenched as it sucked on the half full bottle. 

"Do you like children, Mr Kale," the man asked without looking round. 

"Never really thought about it," Jake responded in his Anton-whisper voice. "I guess maybe one day I might… but for now I'm content to just play with the ladies, you know what I mean?" 

He leered at the young woman holding the child and she shrank back, making the man turn around to finally look at him – and Jake set eyes on the man that had been the object of so long a search by the man that had become his uneasy friend, and that, ultimately, had been responsible for his death. 

He looked every bit the refined gentleman the estate claimed he was. Even dressed in casual pants and a light shirt he had presence that would have cowed a lesser man, but it was the eyes that most disturbed Jake. Ice cold and steel blue they bore into him. He had to be strong. He couldn't back down, so raised his brown eyes to meet the blue. 

The man turned a second later to pick up the child from the woman's arms, out of the blanket that shrouded it… no not it… her. The child was a girl. 

"You don't want to leave it too long, Mr Kale… children are such precious things." He carried the baby over to Jake and all but thrust her into his arms. He cradled her gently while trying to look awkward; amazingly the baby didn't start crying. "Millie and I – we tried for years – just never happened. So we're adopting. She's beautiful, don't you think? Go on… take a look." 

"What happened to the child's mother?" Jake asked. 

He felt a flush of the most dreadful feeling, like fear going through him, only not for himself any more, but for the child in his arms. He looked down at her, and but for the fact of the men behind him would have staggered as the truth of it hit him… dark hair, darkening eyes, the same sharp nose and oval face… 

"She died." Quiller answered. "At least she will." 

Before he had the chance to look up at the man, his mind racing to try and think what Kale would say, pain erupted from the small of his back out in all directions, stealing the strength from his legs and sending him sprawling forward. 

Reflex alone made him tighten the arm that held the child to pull her closer against his chest and stretch out the other arm to catch himself as he hit the floor. The punch to his kidneys was followed by a strong hard kick to his stomach… low, almost in his groin and he retched at the sudden pain, but still shielded the child as a second kick came in. 

"No," he gasped, "God, no!" 

A hand grabbed his hair and pulled his head back. He found himself looking into those cold predatory eyes. 

"You see…" The man imitated the whisper that he used as Kale. "We've heard that you really like kids… Jake." 

** 

**CHICAGO O'HARE INTL AIRPORT: 1.40am Sunday**

Monica watched as the co-pilot came racing back across the tarmac toward where she waited by the steps up to the private jet. 

"What's the delay?" she yelled to be heard over the noise of the wind and engines that were slowly warming up. 

"Sorry, Agent Davis," he yelled back, leaning toward her. "We've been grounded." 

"No!" she shouted. "This plane has to leave… and it has to leave now!" 

He shook his head. "Not going to happen." 

She saw the flashing lights before she heard the sirens, evidently, so too did Cody, because he appeared at the top of the steps and then started down as he saw her reach inside her jacket for her weapon. 

"What did we miss?" she yelled at him as he came to her side and reached for his own weapon, retrieved from the flowerbed of his uncle's home, neither of them able to see into the car escorted to the side of the plane by the two airport security vehicles. 

"Not what…" he smiled, lowering the weapon as the passenger door of the car opened. "Who." 

She followed the direction of his gaze to see her boss and friend climbing to his feet. She went to help him up. 

"You're crazy," she told him. 

"Is that your professional opinion?" he asked and she smiled. "There's some equipment in the back of the car… we're going to need it." 

She nodded, becoming serious for a moment and then nodded again and smiled faintly as Alex got out of the driver's side of the car and walked around the back to start unloading. 

"What's going on?" Cody asked as he joined them as they started pulling silver cases out of the back of the car. Then greeted the other member of the team, "Hey Alex." 

"Hey Cody," she answered faintly. 

"When did you last see Teague and the others?" Frank asked. 

"Early Saturday," Monica answered, glancing at Cody. 

"Then I'll explain on board," Frank said, handing a case over into Cody's hands. "Right now we don't have any more time." 

** 

**ESTATE OF ANTHONY QUILLER, WASHINGTON DC: 2.30am Sunday**   


"Are you okay?" The young woman's voice, high and afraid, registered as he started to regain consciousness. He tried to move, found he hurt in more places than he thought possible, but he was alive, he was breathing. 

He was having trouble processing everything they'd thrown at him during the beating – as he tried to protect the child, so clearly Frank's daughter. Frank… they'd told him he was alive… that Monica had lied to him; let him believe that he was really dead. He understood why, but still… 

He opened his eyes to find the young woman looking at him in concern. Evidently his taking a beating had convinced her he was an okay guy. _Thank God for small mercies,_ he mused sarcastically. 

"I think so," he gasped. "You?" 

"They haven't touched me," she came over to crouch beside him, to help him sit up and then gave him a damp cloth to wipe the blood from his split lip. She took it off him a moment later when his hand trembled so much as he raised it. 

"The baby," he asked breathlessly, and wincing as she pressed the cloth against the many cuts and bruises on his face. 

She shook her head and smiled. 

"Not a scratch," she said. "You took it all." 

He closed his eyes in relief and worry and trepidation all rolled into one, only to open them a moment later when her fingers brushed over his eyebrows, still dark, the way his hair used to be. 

"Is she yours?" she asked him. "Is that why you fought so hard to keep her safe?" 

Automatic weapon fire cut off anything he might have said in answer. It came from outside, accompanied by the sound of helicopters and the flash of searchlights. The woman at his side stiffened in fear. He tried to get up, but it hurt too much. 

"Help me up," he asked her, feeling her arm slip around his aching shoulders. With her help and loosening up – feeling the pain fade to an overwhelmingly dull ache as he started to move – he made his way to the window to look out on the scene outside. 

Quilter's men, all armed, had sealed off the estate, and beyond the gates he could see the unmistakable sight of SWAT vans and agency operatives. It was a stand off… they were under siege. He swore softly… if there was one thing he hated it was being trapped in a hopeless situation. 

He turned back to face the woman that was looking at him fearfully. 

"You never did tell me your name," he said softly. 

"Alana," she said, looking at his hand as he dropped it onto her shoulder. 

"I'm Jake. I'm a federal agent. I'm not going to promise to get you out of here, but I am going to need your help. You think you can do that?" He smiled when she nodded, then started asking her what she knew about the house. 

** 

**US AIRSPACE: 3am Sunday**

The three of them sat speaking quietly about all the revelations, all the pieces that had fallen into place. Healing old wounds and trying to rid themselves of the awkwardness that had first been between them. 

Cody glanced over to where Frank Donovan was reclined in a seat, his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling softly in the rhythm of sleep. 

"You think we should wake him?" he asked softly. Both women shook their heads. 

"Let him sleep, he probably needs it," Alex said. "He's been struggling since we met." 

"Man should still be safely tucked up in his hospital bed," Monica added. Her voice was tinged with worry. 

"And what about Alethea?" he said, still looking at Frank. 

"No!" both women said together. 

"The less he has to worry about, the better." Monica insisted. "This is already going to be so high profile that the pressure is going to be enormous. You heard what he said on the phone…" 

"Yeah, and if Quiller suddenly throws at him that he has his daughter in there?" Cody hissed back. "What's _that_ going to do to his blood pressure?" 

"I still say no." Monica answered. "He needs to have as clear a head as possible. It's a risk we have to take because this is already way too personal for him. If it looks like we've no alternative, then _I'll_ tell him… and I'll take whatever crap he throws at me for not telling him sooner." 

"If this is so personal, then why let him do this at all?" Alex asked and Cody could see that she shared his concern. 

"Because he needs closure… just as you needed to be pushed to let yourself grieve for John." He saw Alex sigh. "And with anyone else running this operation, he won't get that." 

** 

**SIEGE LOCATION, WASHINGTON DC: 4.40am Sunday**   


All around her there was noise, and light, and men in uniforms and bullet proof vests carrying weapons, and wearing protective glasses. It was like something out of the movies, or form news reports she'd seen her colleagues give from war torn countries, not from her own beloved nation's capital city. 

"Shelley you set?" her team were waiting for her to begin the report and all she was doing was gaping around her. She cursed herself for being so unprofessional. 

"Okay in five," she said and started a countdown as the cameraman shifted the camera onto his shoulder and the sound technician set the levels. "We're here outside of the city home of the Presidential Aide, Mr Anthony Quiller, where a remarkable siege is taking place. Unconfirmed reports number the civilian staff inside the estate to be around thirty, in addition to Quiller and his family, all held hostage in the tense standoff between the terrorist aggressors and the law enforcement personnel. 

"The situation began around two hours ago when shots were fired from the estate onto a joint police, CIA and F…" 

"Get these people out of here," the softly accented voice interrupted what she was saying. She turned, as did her cameraman to watch the tall man coming closer, his dark eye bore into her and his full lips, framed in the goatee beard were set into a firm line. Behind him, two women and another man, all carrying silver suitcases were walking with a purpose. 

"All right people," A nearby police office started waving at them to move away. "You heard the man, let move it on back now." 

Far from obeying, Shelley moved in the opposite direction, toward the man that had given the order to clear out her news team, to protest. She caught his arm and he swung around to face her. She found herself once more on the receiving end of those darkly handsome features, glaring at her intensely. 

"Now you just wait a minute mister!" she snapped as boldly as she could muster under that stare, "You can't do that. I have rights here, protected under the con…" 

"I'm not denying you your constitutional rights Miss," he cut her off softly. "You may speak as freely as you wish, but you do it from behind that line." 

He pointed over her shoulder, two fingers extended to indicate the line he meant and she couldn't help but turn her head to look. 

"You are ill equipped to be in a situation like this and I won't allow you to endanger yourself in this way." He continued. 

"Then give me a vest and put me somewhere I can work fro…" 

"Behind the line Miss Riocco," he repeated. 

** 

He was about to turn away, sure she would not comply when the urgent shout came from the front line of the law enforcement officers. 

"Incoming!" 

Reflexively, without thinking of the current, somewhat fragile state of his health, Frank reached out to grab the high profile woman reporter and hooking an ankle around hers to unbalance her, to throw her down and cover her – shielding her with his body. 

For a moment the shock of the impact against the woman and the ground stole his breath and sent a surge of pain rolling over him. Then the explosion happened, and a hot wave chased away the early morning chill, forcing him down more protectively over the woman. It was accompanied by screams of pain, and also of fear and panic from the many gathered spectators, before debris started to rain down all around him. 

The silence that followed was thick and heavy. Cautiously he raised his head, to see many people doing likewise. The woman beneath him was whimpering softly. 

Slowly he forced himself to his knees, breathless and trying to force his lungs to inflate even as he helped her to sit up. 

"Now do you understand?" he said, still breathing hard. She nodded mutely. "Go." 

He leaned forward onto his arms as she scrambled out from where she was still partly beneath him. Swallowing hard he prepared to get up when arms hooked under his and gave him the help he needed. 

"You okay, Frank?" Monica asked softly, and he could see she was giving him the once over. 

"Winded," he gasped. "I'm okay." 

He went to move, but found his three agents standing in his way. They were all of them looking at him in serious concern. 

"What?" he asked sharply. 

"Put it on, Donovan," Alex was holding out a vest in his direction. Sighing, but knowing that she was right; he shrugged off his overcoat and allowed her to help him on with the vest. 

"Frank," a voice he'd not heard in almost seven years came to his ears. "Good to have you back." 

He turned to face the suited man, similarly clad in protective armour that was holding out his hand toward him. 

"Nick," he shook the man's hand. "Just temporary I assure you. This is my team…" He introduced the others to the man that had been his partner, raising his eyebrow at Cody when he looked as though he was going to say something smart. 

"Let me show you your ops centre… we did the sweep like you asked…" 

"And?" he asked. 

"Nothing we could find, but if you want your tech-op to take a look." 

"Cody," 

"I'm on it," Cody followed the man close behind into the non-descript van nearby. 

** 

"Boss," the man behind the bank of computer screens and monitors called to Quiller. He paced away from the window, glaring at Jake as he passed, where Jake sat protectively beside the woman and child. 

He was starting to worry that perhaps the man was just a little insane as he authorised his men to open fire, not with automatic weapons this time, but with a rocket launcher that had taken out one of the squad cars parked outside his estate, and according to the man that came to report back, a good number of officers too. That made him dangerous. 

"We just lost sound and vision," their technical man continued as Quiller got to his side. 

"So, my friend does learn from past mistakes," he said, and sounded amused. 

Jake shuddered and looked across to the baby held in the woman's arms. He sighed and then gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile to Alana. She didn't deserve this. She's been hired as a nanny for the child who, he presumed, had been snatched from Saran to make her do what they wanted with Donovan. He only hoped the team could keep Saran safe from whichever of his people Quiller had decided would be the ones to kill her as he had hinted earlier when talking about the adoption of the baby 

"Why don't you let the woman go?" he voiced the thought about the nanny, nodding toward her as Quiller looked in his direction. 

"I don't think so," Quiller answered smoothly. He was interrupted by the telephone. "Why not put it on the speaker, lets all hear what our man Frank has to say." 

"Quiller," he said confidently as line was answered. 

"You're going to want to hear what I have to say," Frank started. 

"Frank," Quiller greeted him enthusiastically. 

"This is not a social call, Quiller." His answer was low and dangerous. "You have domestic staff in there with you and they don't need to be involved in this. Let them go and then stand your men down." 

"I'm not going to do that. You know that." Quiller answered. 

"If you don't, I have no other alternative." Frank's voice sounded frustrated. 

"You won't come in here, Frank. You won't risk the hostages… you forget how well I know you." 

"You have until six," he answered, almost growling the words, before the white noise took the place of the contact. 

** 

"Son-of-a-bitch!" Frank snapped and ripped off the headset, tossing it onto the desk and leaning forward into his hands. His tiredness – his pain was getting the better of him, making it hard to think; to know what to do for the best. 

"He's got you in a no win situation," Monica leaned forward to speak with him. "He knows that there is nothing you can give him. He's right– you won't risk the hostages unless you've absolutely not choice left. He has nothing to lose because already too many people know what he's done. It's an impasse." 

"There's no such thing," he growled. "There's _always_ something these people want. The only hope he has is getting off US soil, but I can't give him that either." 

"You can't?" she asked softly. "Or won't." 

"Have you any idea how this man has used his position and betrayed his country? How many _lives_ have come apart because of what he's done… how many people have _died_ because of his operation…?" he lowered his voice to speak almost in confidential tones. 

"And you think that if you give him what he wants then people are going to believe you don't care about all that?" she queried, obviously trying to follow the way his mind was working. 

"What I care about is getting those hostages out alive," he answered, shaking his head in denial of her uncannily close assessment of where his thoughts were… close but not spot on. If he gave this man what he wanted then he betrayed not only his brother's memory – but everything he ever shared with Saran. 

They were the people whose memory, whose opinion, of what he did in response to this case mattered. If he let this man go, what did that say about his feelings for them…? 

"Frank…?" Something in the way she laid her hand on his arm, the tone in his voice made him look up at Monica with serious concern in his voice. "You say that, but you need to believe it too. You gotta reach inside for the top negotiator you are, but I need to tell you something that's not going to make it easy for you." 

He closed his eyes and sighed, calming himself enough to be able to listen. 

** 

He noticed that the man was not comfortable with his orders as they were being taken back to the nursery… the room that was serving as their temporary prison. He was afraid. He was hesitant… the way he held the gun, not quiet centred on them. 

"You know, don't you, that in two hours time the FBI and SWAT and whatever other government agency they've got out there is going to come swarming in here like the wrath of God, and they're going to be taking you guys down," Jake said. "Not waiting around to find out which of you knows the difference between right and wrong." 

He looked at the man's hand, his left. He wore a ring. 

"And what is your wife going to think, hmmm?" he pressed. "When the cop turns up on her doorstep to tell her you're never coming home? What about the kids? You got kids, hmmm?" 

"Two," the man answered. "Both boys." 

"I know what it's like, growing up without a pop. Believe me, you don't want to do that to your kids," Jake sighed. "Give me the gun." 

"And what would you do with it?" the man asked. "There's no way for you to get out of here. They'd take you down before you got ten feet from the house." 

"You let me worry about that," Jake smiled, and reached out to put a hand on the man's shoulder as he lowered the weapon. Even though he did not relinquish it, Jake knew he had made an ally. "I'll find a way to get out of here… just like you will." 

The man sighed, meeting his eyes. He saw indecision, conflict of conscience over orders. Jake nodded. And finally the man handed over the weapon. 

** 

"Frank," He opened his eyes at the sound of Cody's voice. "There's movement up at the house." 

"Somebody coming out?" He moved behind the man and leaned down to look at the screens, wincing and taking a sharp breath at the stab of pain that hit him at the sudden movement. 

"You all right?" Cody asked casually. He nodded. "Not sure, hold on…" 

The view they saw zoomed in to show five men, internal security for the estate by the look of them, coming out of the front door of the house and walking down the driveway. They looked nervous. 

"This is important," Frank mused and picked up the headset. "Team leaders, this is Donovan. Tell me what you can see." 

** 

The agent was right, this wasn't worth dying over… this wasn't worth arrest and years of imprisonment. He had to trust in God, and in the ability of the taskforce outside to get him and the four other men he'd convinced to turn against Quiller, safely away. 

"What's going on, Andrews?" One of the armed men on the gate asked as he got closer. 

"We're leaving Jensen. This isn't right." He didn't pause, his heart pounding as he opened the side gate. 

He and his companions kept walking. They raised their hands as they cleared the gate and behind him, he heard Jensen calling back inside the house to Quiller. He knew what was coming. 

"Run!" he yelled, but even as he did he felt the first of the bullets hit him in the back of the leg. 

** 

"Damn it!" Frank hissed. "Team leaders, give those men covering fire." 

The sound of gunfire grew louder for a time, before it died away altogether. Looking at the monitors he saw that two of the men were lying on the ground. Both were clearly still alive. 

"Get them out of there," he ordered. "And have EMTs standing by." 

Straightening up again he left the relative warmth of the ops van to go out into the cold morning air to see first hand as a small team of men moved cautiously out toward the injured defectors on the ground behind riot shields. 

A spray of automatic fire had everyone moving to cover and the men, exposed in the no-mans-land between the estate and the law enforcement vehicles ducked behind the shields, covering themselves still further. 

"Cody," Frank uncurled himself from beside the squad car and adjusted the mouthpiece on the headset. "Get me a line in." 

"Quiller," the confidence was still there in the man's voice, unwavering even after what had just happened. 

"Don't be a fool, Quiller," Frank said softly. "A leader that rules over his men through fear is nothing more than a bully. The thing about bullies is that there is always someone bigger, harder and stronger that will come along and take them down." 

"Are you that man, Frank?" Quiller responded, softly sarcastic. "The bigger bully, come to take me down?" 

He tightened his jaw, fighting with himself not to respond to the man's so obvious goading. 

** 

Cody winced as he heard the words through his own headset. 

"He is so dead," he murmured to Monica sitting nearby. She shook her head and turned her attention back to the monitors, listening as was he. 

"Let me get help to those men." Frank's voice sounded firm. "Make a show of good faith Quiller. Don't condemn those men to die and we'll talk about how we can resolve this. We'll talk about what you want." 

Frank appeared in the doorway of the ops van and made a cutting motion at him and he scrambled to hit the button on his keyboard. 

"Well?" Frank sounded tired as he asked for their opinion. 

"Well I could run a VSA on the call if…" He rattled off a load of technical stuff about Voice Stress Analysis before he realised that Donovan wasn't talking to him. 

"He's trying to provoke you. He's starting to get worried." Monica answered. She paused as though she looked as if she were thinking. Then she nodded. "Yeah, he's starting to doubt his convictions." 

Frank nodded and turned to Nick, their CIA liaison. "Get me two teams, visible. I want them looking as if we're go on the raid." 

"You got it." Nick said, and left the ops van. 

"Donovan, call from the house," Cody pointed at the flashing light on the console. Frank left it a full thirty seconds before he answered the call. 

** 

"Jesus, he's really going to do it," Jake came away from the window and watched as Alana picked up the child after fixing her clothes. He ran his fingers through his hair. What the hell was he supposed to do? 

"Something's going to happen isn't it?" she looked up and asked him somewhat fearfully. 

"I think so," he said calmly, not wanting her to start getting any more afraid than she already was. "It will be okay." 

He hoped, as he stroked her back, and leaned down to gently touch the baby's cheek that he hadn't just told a lie. The child turned her head toward the touch. 

"She's hungry," Alana explained. "She didn't get to finish her milk before." 

He saw her shiver as he moved away and pulled the gun the other man had given him out of the waistband of his pants, to check the clip. 

"It's okay," he said softly, replacing the gun and covering it with his shirt. "It's okay." 

** 

He paced slowly behind the ops van, his arms folded across his chest his eyes hooded as he moved… sighing. 

Jake was in the house… armed. A loose cannon… an unknown. Another sigh escaped his tired body. It wasn't that he didn't trust Jake… he was young – a little headstrong still, but better than he had been. Just that Jake would be trying to second guess what he was going to do, to fit in with the plans. Ordinarily that wouldn't be a problem. With the profile Monica had grudgingly given him he could pretty much work out what Jake would do, but he was second guessing _himself…_ and that made it hard. It made it dangerous. 

Quiller had a domestic staff of twenty five and Intel. said fifteen heavily armed guard. He'd pulled four of those back into the house, to replace the men that had defected, leaving eleven on the perimeter. Heat traces showed the majority of personnel in the dining room, probably where he was holding most of the hostages and apart from Quiller and the other guards, only three others in an upstairs room. 

He swallowed hard… three others and one of them a child… a baby… _his_ baby. 

He leaned against the side of the tech-ops van, relishing the pain as he raised his right arm over his head. He couldn't allow himself to think about that right now. He couldn't allow that to have power over him, but_ merciful Christ _how could he _not_. It was his child; his flesh and blood; his… 

"Frank, we have movement at the house," Cody's voice sounded in his ear. "Looks like hostages." 

"I'm on my way," he said into the mic. He hurried as best he could back to the door of the van to peer at the monitors, and then back outside to watch with his own eyes as the hostages were herded into the centre of the driveway, surrounded by Quiller's men. 

** 

"So what do you think, Jake?" Quiller roughly pulled him up to the window. "How many will Frank lose before he gives me what I want?" 

"You know the way these things work," Jake said. "You have to give him time." 

"Exactly." The answer chilled his blood. 

"You can't just start killing hostages without giving him…" 

"Oh but he's _had_ time." Quiller interrupted. 

"You haven't even told him what you want." 

** 

"Pull the men back and drive the car slowly by the gate on my signal," Frank ordered, and then nodded at Cody. 

"Listen to me very carefully," he said as soon as the phone was picked up. "You harm even one hair on the least of those people and I will tell the car that's about to drive past your gateway to keep driving. 

"You don't mean that, Frank, you…" 

"You don't want to risk testing me, Quiller." he said resolutely. "You let the hostages go unharmed and you and your wife get a plane fuelled to get you anywhere you need to go outside of US jurisdiction. You and I both know that's the only way past this." 

"How do I know you're on the level, Donovan?" 

"When have I ever been otherwise?" he replied. He signalled to Cody, who keyed his mic. 

"Ops to transport, go, repeat, go," Cody instructed. 

"Look out of the window, Quiller," Frank instructed. "There's your transport out of this. All you have to do… is release the hostages and let them get to safety. Then stand down your men." 

"And if I don't?" Quiller pressed. 

"There is only _one_ other way this can end, Anthony." Frank leaned over Cody and cut the line himself. 

** 

It felt like an eternity she'd been checking off hostages and helping to process the men that had been surrendered from inside the complex. Only four now remained with Quiller and his wife to guard Jake, the nanny and Frank's daughter. 

Alex had a bad feeling, she turned to go and see if she could find Monica. Her bad feeling suddenly had a face when she spotted Saran, struggling with a uniformed officer at the police line. 

"Saran no!" she caught her around the waist as she darted past the police officer. "You can't be here. You can't go in there!" 

"No!" she fought and scratched, not even careful of her newly healed shoulder. "Let me go, that's my baby in there!" 

Alex pulled her back to arm's length and shook her, hard. 

"You have to trust him," she said. "You have to let him do this the way he knows how." 

"But he doesn't…" Saran started, tears swelling in her eyes. 

"He knows," Alex told her. "He knows, Monica told him. She had to." 

She watched as Saran crumpled, tears becoming sobs as she finally stopped struggling. Alex pulled her into a tight, warm embrace. 

"She'll be all right," she whispered. "I promise you… Frank won't let anyone hurt her." 

** 

He was tense, more tense that he could ever remember as he watched them starting out of the house. His fingers just brushed against the video screen beside Cody's left arm. 

Quiller held a woman around the throat, moving her forward with his feet between hers, keeping her off balance. He held a gun to the side of her head and against her chest she held… he turned his eyes away from the screen and sighed. 

"Frank…?" Monica touched him lightly on the shoulder. 

"Don't," he growled and then instructed, "Cody, tell the car to move up." 

"Already moving," Cody said softly. 

Frank felt something nudge against his hand and turned his head to find Cody holding up the headset he had discarded some few minutes before. He took it and started fixing it into place, once again watching the monitor, assessing the situation. 

Jake walked beside Quiller and the woman, similarly restrained and on the end of a hand gun. Quiller's wife walked nervously behind and around them four men, armed with automatic weapons walked, their guns trained to cover them. 

He didn't like the way it looked or felt. 

Walking out of the ops van, fully connected now with the taskforce, he looked on the scene with his own eyes as the small group of people came down the driveway to the gate and the waiting car. 

He closed his eyes against and took a huge breath, before he opened him mouth to speak. 

** 

Tension… 

It was all he could feel. It filled the air, a sickly stench that was making everyone nervous and would only take one wrong move… one lapse in concentration to bring it all tumbling down. 

If that happened he had to be ready. Jake flexed his arms slightly, making sure he could reach the gun tucked into the back of his pants and earned himself a sore spot on the underside of his chin where the man holding him captive pressed the gun into his flesh. 

"Don't even think about it," the voice hissed in his ear. 

** 

"Blue team, Donovan, you read?" 

"Go ahead, sir," the voice answered in his ear. 

"What is it looking like up there?" 

He listened while the members of the team called in that they had target acquired. He tightened his jaw and held his breath. He knew better than to hope. 

"Negative, sir… I have no target." Only one team member could not deliver. "Repeat, I have no target. Quiller's obscured by the hostage." 

"Damn it," he hissed. "Anybody?" 

The other teams all called in negative. He ran his hand over his face, about to tell them to hold – but stay on target when one of blue team called in with an uncomfortable suggestion. 

"Sir?" The voice in his ear was hesitant. "If I take down the hostage, I have a clear shot." 

His tired mind went through every permutation of the way that could end. Could he condone that? Could he order a hostage deliberately harmed by those meant to protect them for the greater good – for a desired outcome? 

Could he take that risk with his child? 

_Don't get personal… care ABOUT the hostages not FOR them… be ready to do what you have to do to achieve the best possible outcome._ The words of every training seminar he ever attended all swam through his head. But the truth was this was personal. It was over eight years personal and now Quiller had a member of his team and… 

"Sir?" The voice interrupted his dark musings. "Are we go?" 

A member of his team, a civilian hostage… he had to wonder about Quiller's wife and how involved she was in all this or if she was as much a hostage as Jake and the nanny… He sighed… 

"Agent Donovan? Are we go?" 

And more than that… He sighed again, closed his eyes and in his mind clearly saw the bundle pressed against the chest of the hostage in question. _Enough_! He told himself, and gave himself a mental shake. 

The tiredness shattered like a fractured windshield and suddenly the whole scenario cleared in front of him. A single shot would be all it took to change the organised, controlled retrieval into chaos. The minute the hostage went down the gunmen protecting Quiller would scatter like rats. They were agency. They would know they were being covered. Would know that they were all but dead if the shooting started and as confident as he was in the ability of his sharp-shooters, his gut told him that for all they had their targets, if the shooting began, they would miss. 

"Negative Blue team," he snapped. "But stay on target and if you get a clear shot…" 

"I don't think so, Donovan." A voice behind him, and more to the point the soft click of the hammer of a handgun being drawn back made him stop talking. He heard the rattle of many guns, found his own weapon somehow in his hand as he turned, raising it to point at his would-be assailant, and around him heard the cries for the man to surrender the weapon. 

"Back off or he dies!" The voice said firmly. 

"Put it _down_ Teague," Monica instructed softly. She was standing to his side, her gun out, pointed past his shoulder at the man in front of him. 

"Do as he says, Monica," Frank said softly. Then to the other law enforcement officers he said, "All of you…stand down your weapons." 

As they all hesitantly complied as he fixed his eyes firmly on Teague or, as he had known him, McGuirk. 

"You too, Frank," McGuirk spoke first as he and Donovan faced off against each other, starting down the barrels of their respective enemy's gun. 

"And have you kill me?" Frank said. "I don't think so." 

"You're a hard man to kill, Donovan," McGuirk said. 

"Which is why you're the one to do so?" Frank asked. He didn't need this complication… this added tension and risk. "Again… I don't believe so. If you were going to, you'd have done it a long time ago. Completely aside from which the moment you fire the shot to take my life, this whole situation explodes. I don't think you want that." 

"Don't presume you know what I want," McGuirk spat. 

"All right," Frank said softly, he wavered slightly, swaying backwards a little and felt Monica move behind him. "But I assume that you don't want to die? Because if you take the shot then these officers are going to take. you. down." 

"Then we have a standoff," McGuirk sneered. 

"No we don't," a soft female voice said from behind McGuirk. 

"Clare, no!" Frank managed to snap off the word before the whole of the area erupted into noise and chaos. 

** 

A shot… a single shot was all it took and the men beside him opened fire, thankfully not on him, but at the law enforcement officers that were already returning fire. Jake didn't waste time marvelling at that, he quickly jabbed back with his elbow, and was rewarded when it connected with the man's middle and his arms were released. 

He grabbed the gun from the back of his waistband and without hesitation dropped the man with a well placed bullet before turning the gun on Quiller and letting off a second shot. 

Alana screamed as the blood splattered onto her, but Jake didn't give her time to think about it, he grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her away from her Quiller, racing for the only cover he could see… the large stone pillar that supported the gate. 

It wasn't going to be a good position for long, if Quiller's men realised they'd gone and were not so pinned down by the fire from the agency taskforce then they were basically screwed. The pillar provided cover from the outside of the estate but not the inside. If Quiller's men started shooting, they would be dead. 

And his gut told him that time would not be long in coming… so he started looking for a way out. 

** 

"Hell!" Frank had just lost it. He knew that… that single shot he'd worried would shatter the fragile situation had done just that. Quiller's men were firing on the law enforcement teams on the ground, who were firing back. 

"Cease fire!" he yelled into the mouthpiece, hoping to regain a measure of control, and heading out toward the cars at the front line. "All units cease fire!" 

To a man they ignored his command. He had no choice. He had to send the in the chopper to get men behind Quiller. 

"Red team, go!" 

"Roger that. About time," the pilot answered and he heard the sound of the nearby helicopter, circling in a holding pattern, begin to get louder as it broke away to come in closer. 

He risked taking raising his head over the squad car behind which he was sheltering to take a look at the situation, and what he saw made his blood run cold. 

** 

A bullet impacted against the pillar over his head and a shower of white plaster and marble rained down on him. He flattened himself as much as he could around the nanny. He had to get them to the law enforcement side. He had no other choice. 

He took another look. It wasn't such a long way… in fact if he could just get them to a point behind the limousine – no doubt bullet proof, that Donovan had arrange to take them all to the airport… 

"Alana, listen," he said urgently. "We gotta make a run for it…" 

"But the guns…" she wailed in protest. 

"We're as much a target here as we are out there," Jake argued. "We stay low, and run quickly, we should be okay. It's only twenty yards… maybe a little more." 

She looked up into the sincerity he hoped was on his face, masking his doubts and swallowing hard, she nodded. He would wait for a lull in the firing. That way they stood more of a chance. 

It was a slim chance… but it was better than no chance at all. 

** 

She saw the movement from the gateway of the house and instantly started struggling with Alex again. 

The dark haired man was leading the woman out in the middle of the gun battle putting her child in danger. 

"No!" she gave Alex one final push, breaking free and without thinking of her own safety – thinking only as a mother that saw her child in danger and had to be there, be there to save her – she too leaped out and ran straight toward them. 

** 

"Saran, no!" he yelled, even though he knew there was no way she would hear him with all the gunfire around them. Bad enough that Jake was endangered, though he understood his agent's thinking and would have made the same choice himself, but Saran… 

Everything he ever was, or would ever hope to be knotted in the single instant and switched his action onto automatic. Ignoring the fact that he had discharged himself, against strenuous medical advice the day before… not even knowing if he had the strength to run as far as he would need to, he slid across the hood of the car and the minute his feet touched the ground on the other side, set off, sprinting on a course to intercept Saran. 

"Frank, no. Get out of there!" Monica's urgent voice sounded in his earpiece. 

"Don't just yell at him," Cody's voice followed, equally urgent. "Give him covering fire." 

He tried to shut out the voices and concentrate on running. It was getting harder and harder to put one foot in front of the other. The breaths he took stabbed at his chest and burned on the way out. He still had a lot of distance to cover. 

Forty yards… _He saw her smiling face, and remembered the feel of her arms around him, her laughter as he swung her around._

Thirty… _Remembered the touch of her hands on his face, her lips under his._

Twenty… 

** 

She screamed beside him, and a hot fount of blood sprayed across his chest and his face. Alana stumbled and then fell backwards. 

Jake hesitated, half turned, and looked down at the woman and the blood that stained the white of the blanket which wrapped the baby. So much blood, he couldn't see who was hit or where. His mind screamed in denial 

He felt the movement of the air as a spray of bullets whipped past his head and did the only thing he could think to do, throwing himself over the fallen woman and child. 

** 

The impact of her slender body against his sent all the air rushing out of his tortured lungs, it was pure reflex that had his arms close around her, and instinct that had him turn them both as he registered the gunman out of the corner of his eye. 

The spray of bullets from the automatic weapon hit him across the back and shoulders and sent them both sprawling to the ground, her body under his. It was all wiped away by the pain that blossomed anew though the whole of his body. He fought for consciousness, but it was a losing battle. 

The last thing he registered… she was screaming his name.   
  
  


_I had simply never been so nervous in my life. Since the middle of the afternoon I was glancing at the clock every five minutes… counting down the time.___

_I was home… the charges I faced had been dropped – only sensible I supposed, since you can't be charged with the murder of a federal officer if that officer were still alive and of the hundred or so other charges they could have brought against me, nothing ever came. I didn't know why, but I suspected he had something to do with it. Even the assault charge against the doctor in Washington that had been going to take Alethea from me had been wiped away.___

_I was almost sick with nerves by the time the doorbell sounded. I don't know why he rang the doorbell – as far as I knew he still had the key I'd given him.___

_"Hi," I said with a faint smile, opening the door, and not really looking at him. I daren't. If I looked at him, I would be even more lost than I already was, and I wasn't sure where I stood any more.___

_It was all very confusing… and confused I stood to the side to allow him into the house. I hated the awkwardness… knew there was more to come through the evening, but tried not to think about it.___

_He reached out to take my hand, and I flinched. I'm sure he noticed, but he didn't say anything, just picked up my hand and gently ran his thumb across my fingers. They had been grazed by one of the bullets that bounced off the vest he was wearing. I was glad of that vest. It had saved his life even as he saved mine.___

_And it was that realisation that shattered the awkwardness between us. He had saved my life… had risked his own life to save mine. My other hand came up to his chest, to rest against it, gently in case he was still sore.___

_"Frank," I whispered, "I'm sorry. I should have told you."___

_"Yes you should," he said equally softly, but with an underlying tone of warmth. "But I understand why you didn't."___

_"And I'm sorry I…"___

_"Ssshhh, Enough." He pulled gently on the hand he held until I moved forward, closer to the hand that was still lying on his chest. "They've stolen enough time from us, Saran, and I miss you."___

_His arms folded around me before I could answer, holding me tightly against his chest, and I couldn't help the tears that came into my eyes, or the wracking sobs that shook my body as I held him too.___

_When I came to myself again we were sitting on the stairs, held in each other's arms. Both of us had been crying, but they were cleansing tears – tears of healing. I reached up a hand to wipe the droplets of salty water from his cheeks and he turned his face into my palm, nuzzling like a huge cat, his lips brushing the lightest of kisses against my hand where it touched his face. The sensations I felt were so acute they were almost painful… longing… desire… need…___

_I gasped softly, my hand falling away from his face, to rest on his shoulder. He eased me closer, almost into his lap and his own fingers settled onto my face, raising my lips to his and he began a soft kiss that I could not have escaped even if I had wanted to.___

_The body remembers…___

_My lips softened and parted under his brushing embrace, I moulded against him as I always had, my arms snaking around his shoulders, as his hands came down to encircle my waist. His tongue eased gently between my lips and teased at my own, then moved in strong sweeping strokes inside my mouth. He tasted so good and I was almost dying from the sweetness of the other sensations at sharing his warmth… his strength…___

_A shrill cry broke the moment, and understandably, he stiffened under my hand, but none the less followed me as I stood and climbed the stairs to the nursery. She seemed surprised that the nursery looked so together. It was, after all, only a short time since my return from DC.___

_"The others helped me," I explained as I picked up Alethea from her cot. "Monica, Jake and Alex. Cody…"___

_"The baby monitor?" he asked, almost smiling, looking at the small microphone inlaid into the side of the cot. I nodded and turned so that he could see his daughter where she was cradled against my shoulder. She was trying to lift up her head.___

_"She's beautiful," he said with a soft catch in his voice. He reached out almost hesitantly to touch her face, and then to stroke her shoulder. "Truly beautiful."___

_"She's your daughter, Frank. How could she be anything else?" I asked softly.___

_He closed his eyes and sighed, his full, lower lip trembling slightly.___

_"Saran, I'm sorry, I should have…"___

_"Ssshhh," I said, echoing his earlier words to me. His eyes opened and found mine. "I gave you no choice… no chance."___

_"Still…" he argued gently.___

_"No… Enough." I told him. "I won't have you blaming yourself for anything… please," I added softly.___

_For a long time he stood looking at us… at his daughter, gently touching from time to time.___

_"You want to hold her?" I asked him softly. He took a deep breath, but shook his head. He looked afraid.___

_"Not yet," he breathed.___

_We didn't make it downstairs again. As soon as we came out of the nursery Frank turned and whispering my name took me into his arms again finishing the kiss that our daughter had interrupted.___

_This time our shared need expressed itself as passion. His hand wound into my hair and pulled back my head so that he could press our bodies close together and share the long, deep and almost frantic kiss at the same time.___

_Don't misunderstand, it was not all one sided. I was as needful as he was. The buttons of his shirt succumbed to my trembling hand as I sought to find skin on which to rest my aching palms. It was as though it hurt to be apart and we all but fell into the bedroom, kissing and touching more and more with every step.___

_When his shirt finally fell away I gasped at the sight of the scar I had caused on the right hand side of his chest.___

_"It will fade," he promised, lifting his head away from my neck.___

_Even so I felt like the worst person in the world to have hurt him in the way that I did. I leaned forward to plant a line of soft kisses over the bullet wounds and the scar from the surgery. His hand cupped the back of my head and he gasped with each pass of my lips and my tongue.___

_The gasps became a long, low moan as I moved to take his nipple into my mouth, until he pulled my head away and rolling suddenly, pressed a passionate kiss against my mouth, pinning my beneath him, his thigh between my legs. My turn to moan as his kisses began to descend over my neck and breasts, over my stomach as he moved lower, to unfasten my pants and slip them off.___

_He knew me; knew everything about me and used that knowledge to leave me reeling in almost unbridled pleasure even though the touches had been nowhere near the space I really needed to feel him, gasping and reaching for him even as he returned to my side.___

_He took my hand and kissed each finger then placed my hand onto his chest again, covered with his own.___

_"I need you," he said, his voice a soft growl in the dim light from the bedside lamp.___

_"I need you too," I whispered, then added. "I love you."___

_"Oh Saran," the words burst out of him almost like a sob and he pulled me into a strong crushing embrace. "Dear God, I love you too!"___

_It felt like coming to life as he slowly eased up, let me away from him, so that his fingers could brush over my breasts, still firm in spite of feeding Alethea and lower to reach for the ache that he had caused in the centre of my being.___

_I moaned, lifting my hips to catch his touch, and moved my own hands to cup him through the shorts that were all he was wearing… he pressed himself, hot and hard against the caress of my hand until I moved to push the shorts away, and take him into my hand, and stoke him gently, tenderly… knowing just where and how – the body remembers…___

_We fit together so perfectly as he moved to cover me. Both of us held our breath in the moment our bodies joined, as he glided in to fill me, and we both gasped, calling out for the other as our hips met – holding still for a moment, and yet trembling together.___

_Then he gathered me closer and began to move. Emotion so great welled up inside me that it spilled over almost at once, tearfully I gasped and moved with him, wrapping my legs around him… wanting him closer, needing him closer… my arms around him were like a shield to both of us against the horrors we had suffered, that our lovemaking was only now beginning to wash away.___

_So high, we climbed – so bright the light that covered us. I was reaching for that bright place, holding him with me, gripping him inside – almost shattering beneath him when he left the warmth of my body. I moaned in disappointment, my orgasm slipping from me, only to return in full and sudden force when his mouth descended onto the ache and his tongue flickered inside me.___

_"Frank!" I cried out for him and gripped the bedclothes, rocked and broken into tiny pieces by the intensity of my climax. He drank deep of my sweetness before returning to fill the empty space, thrusting home hard and deep, to reach the spot he knew left me helpless and weak as a second wave of pleasure broke over me fast on the heels of the first.___

_"Breathe," he whispered and kissed me deeply until all I could see and feel and taste was him… his breath filling my lungs, his heart beat against my chest as though it were pumping my blood around and not his.___

_"Don't stop," I begged him quietly. "Don't leave me…"___

_"I won't," he said. "I promise."___

_He clasped my hands, our fingers entwining and rose over me again, like the sun rising to bring the day. Our movements together became almost primal. We were so lost in each other, and so high that the world was almost nothing but a blur beneath the two of us.___

_"Saran," he breathed, and I knew he was close, I could feel the tightness in all of his muscles and against my body where his almost swollen pouches pressed against the point of our joining. I raised my lips to his and my body to meet his downward momentum and that was all it took for both of us.___

_Oblivion surrounded us – soothing all past hurts and losses – breaking us open and healing us, each with a piece of the other. He flowed into me, hot and thick. I felt every pulse against the trembling of my own climax.___

_Again we stilled unable and unwilling to move apart from each other, until nature forced our hand and he melted out of me. Drawing me against his chest as he laid back, he kissed my forehead, breathing heartfelt words of love and promises of better times to come.___

_I still felt a shiver of doubt… and it hurt me more than I can say.___

_Cold…___

_I woke cold in the middle of the night, and where Frank should have been was nothing but cold and empty sheets.___

_At first I panicked until I saw the warm glow that filtered around the edge of the opened door from the nursery opposite___

_I slipped on a robe and on quiet feet walked to find him. When I reached the door, tears came to my eyes as soon as I saw the two of them.___

_Frank was sitting in the chair, reclined, feet up on the foot rest. He had fallen asleep and was gently cradling Alethea against his chest, skin to skin. Their faces were turned toward each other, in fact it looked as though he had fallen asleep in the midst of kissing her infant forehead, and her tiny arms were pressed against his muscled chest.___

_It was a truly beautiful sight; father and daughter, together, both sleeping, both at peace. I knew then that we would be all right._   
  
  
  


UC CRIB: Two months later – Tuesday 9.40am 

  


"Can I take it that, given we're not playing beer or coffee everything is right with the world?" Jake nudged Alex almost playfully as she sat in her place at the briefing table. "That OPR cleared you of misconduct?" 

"OPR ran away with their tails between their legs," she grinned at them. "Apparently Donovan filed a report that said, and I quote – "Agent Cross was acting under my direct orders, helping to establish convincing, deep cover for a fellow agent as part of an ongoing investigation." I guess they didn't want to argue with Frank." 

Cody sighed, and put his feet up on the table, leaning back dangerously in his chair. 

"If everything is right with the world, how come we get another new boss?" he moaned, "And I'm telling you Monica, if he's anything like that last drip they sent, I will quit." 

"You won't quit," she slapped his legs off the table and he had to make a grab for it to stop himself from falling over backwards. "So anyone know anything about this guy?" 

Cody watched as everyone looked at each other with blank faces. 

"Hey at least we know now that the do take out an add," he said cheerfully. "At least according to Teague… an internal one, but an add none the…" 

"Yeah right," Jake interrupted, "Like you trust a word that snake said?" 

** 

Clearly they hadn't heard him open or close the door behind him. They were arguing, as before, he smiled wryly, about whether or not the post had been advertised. 

There was no need to advertise the post. He forced the smile from his face as he walked further into the room, surveying each member of the team. They looked older – wiser… but closer as a team. 

Monica appeared a little softer somehow and he wondered if Cody had anything to do with that, because he too looked more relaxed… no less sharp, just less on edge. 

Alex looked rested. The haunted look was gone from her eyes – as though she had laid many ghosts to rest, and he was glad of that. He had worried about her coming apart on a case. He could forget about that now… 

And Jake – he let out a light sigh – looked as hard, as bloody minded and independent as ever… as challenging to authority… but he knew differently. He'd looked into the man's brown eyes and seen the change in the youngster… now he could truly be the peer that he needed him to be. 

He came to a standstill at the edge of the platform and said, "Good morning." 

** 

They jumped at the sound of his voice and instantly stopped their conversation to turn and look at him. Monica fought to suppress a smile as Cody pulled his feet, which he had returned to the table, quickly down to the ground and sat up straight. 

She took her seat as Frank moved forward and began placing the familiar Manila file folders onto the table in front of them. She stopped fighting not to smile when he handed her file to her, and the glint of the wide white-gold band on the ring finger of his left hand caught her eye. 

"Antonia DeMarco," he began then asked, "Do you have a problem, Agent Davis?" 

But when she looked up, she found he too was smiling.   
  


_Fin_   



End file.
